


Just This Once

by A_Hodgepodge_of_Nothings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Healing, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Slow Burn, Surprisingly healthy relationships, Tatooine is a sandy sandy place, That's Not How The Force Works, also (obviously) maul lives, and/or manipulated canon, everyone is hurt or sad, formerly darth, more tags to come, now just maul, there is a lot of non-canon here, very small Luke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-11 18:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 35,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Hodgepodge_of_Nothings/pseuds/A_Hodgepodge_of_Nothings
Summary: Maul crash-lands on Tatooine several years after the events of Revenge of the Sith. Obi-Wan finds him and decides to help his old enemy, despite everything. Perhaps because of everything.





	1. Tatooine?

**Author's Note:**

> Some things to note for this story:
> 
> Obi-Wan has been living on Tatooine after the fight with Anakin in ROTS, keeping an eye out for Luke. Unlike in the movies, Owen and Beru let Obi-Wan help Luke develop his Force abilities, with the understanding that he will not train Luke to become a Jedi.
> 
> Maul's plot starts off several years after the fight with Sidious from Clone Wars where he was taken prisoner. Maul's relationship with Savage was the same as in CW, but anything regarding Satine (and Ezra, from Rebels) is non-existent.  
> During the fight with Obi-Wan in Phantom Menace, Maul's legs were cut off at upper-thigh level (so, he still has a partial lower half).
> 
> Eventual Obi-Wan/Maul.
> 
> Enjoy, and please comment with any thoughts! :)

Maul felt the faint vibration of the ship before anything else fully registered. He couldn’t remember _why_ he was on a ship, or nearly anything else, for that matter.

 _Drugs,_ he thought slowly, his brain working through the slog of whatever mixture they’d given him to keep him under. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth and he instinctively reached for the Force, finding it, surprisingly, at the edge of his grasp.

The force inhibitor had been removed, then. He couldn’t remember them taking it off, but there were many things he couldn’t remember. How long had he been there? Years? Pain blurred days together—time had lost all meaning while shackled and tortured beyond his ability to comprehend.

Flexing his arms as feeling crept back into them, Maul found himself cuffed but otherwise unrestrained. No doubt the drugs were supposed to debilitate him, but Zabrak metabolism worked differently. They were bred to survive.

 _Sidious would have known,_ he thought. Undoubtedly someone else arranged the transportation while the Sith Lord himself was preoccupied elsewhere. Having a new Sith to train and an empire to run took time, enough to distract him from his favorite ex-apprentice.

The fog in Maul’s head didn’t clear so much as settle, leaving the world unfocused. Maul twisted his wrists in the cuffs, sending a small nudge of the Force to help spring them open. The effort nearly knocked him back unconscious; after not contacting the Force for so long, let alone _using_ it, the feeling of it flowing through him was overwhelming.

His arms were free, though, and he stumbled upright, going straight to the floor as his legs collapsed under him. They weren’t the legs he had acquired after Lotho Minor, but some basic variety of cybernetics that wouldn’t allow him to do much more than walk.

He couldn’t remember why his captors had reattached a pair, after ripping the old ones off and leaving him no better than a torso writhing on the floor. They were showing him to someone—he thought. He couldn’t focus.

Pushing himself up again and waiting for his head to stop spinning, he took a careful step, reaching out as much as he could with the Force to get a better feel of his surroundings. It was a small passenger craft, with seemingly only one other life form aboard. The pilot, if Maul had to guess.

He slid the door to his compartment open, nearly keeling over as he did so and reminding himself that he didn’t quite have a grasp on things yet. Still, years of training had made him almost silent on his feet when he wanted to be, and creeping toward the cockpit came naturally even despite the tug of the drugs telling him to sit down and rest.

 _Not yet,_ he told his body. This could be the only chance he got to escape. Until now he’d been inhibited, shackled, and in more pain than he could cope with. He’d tried to get away before, he’d raged against Sidious and the others that paid him visits, all to no avail. Sidious found his efforts amusing.

Now was as good a time as ever.

The Duros pilot didn’t even have time to turn around; Maul snapped his neck in an instant, reeling at the exertion and collapsing into the co-pilot chair.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, feeling the inevitable drag of exhaustion and malnutrition pulling him down, blackness spotting in the corners of his vision and steadily closing in. His body ached, everything from horns to fingers, as well as something deep in his chest, between the thump of his hearts.

Knowing he only had minutes left, Maul tapped the screen and pulled up schematics of the area, not quite sure where he was.

The Force nudged him, whispering something he was too tired to focus on and too slow to understand. It felt like he was listening to it underwater, everything muffled and heavy, so very heavy.

He needed to reroute the ship, and fast. Figuring out how to disable the ship’s tracker was easy, but deciding where to go was less so. He had no friends, not anymore, no one who would help if he showed up in a stolen Imperial vessel. Many of the systems would turn him in immediately, assuming, that is, he had enough fuel to get anywhere.

The cockpit spun around him and Maul braced himself, feeling the Force give him another nudge. He tapped in the coordinates, not sure why it wanted him to go there. He could only hope there would be enough fuel.

His last coherent thought before he collapsed back into the seat was: _Why Tatooine?_

He did not have long to worry, though, as the exhaustion stole over him and the darkness closed in once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I haven't written in forever.  
> Expect mistakes! The SW universe is humongous and I don't have a fact-checker to read this before I post.  
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Tatooine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is dealing with things. Kind of. Qui-Gon is also a bit of a dick, if not a supportive one.

Sometimes, Qui-Gon needed to shut up. It was nice to have him there—it was more than nice, if Obi-Wan was being honest—but his old master wanted to talk about everything, regardless of how painful the topics were for Obi-Wan.

The past few years had been hard in more ways than he could count. Losing Anakin hadn’t been easy to get over. He _hadn’t_ gotten over it, not really, but he could fool himself most days in order to keep pushing forward.

Every time he saw Luke, a small part of his brain reminded him how much the boy looked like a smaller version of Anakin. Down to the eyes and hair, Luke was nearly a spitting image of his father; everything besides the slight softness that spoke clearly of Senator Amidala. Padme. Her death was still fresh as well, even if it did not cut into him as deeply as the parting with Anakin.

Not Anakin anymore. _Vader_. Obi-Wan always had to correct himself; his padawan was long-gone, replaced by this Sith he’d never know and wished he’d never met. Vader had taken everything with him: the entire Jedi Order was in ruins thanks to him and Darth Sidious. Obi-Wan’s friends were dead, the few remaining having gone deep into hiding. He knew the location of Master Yoda and Senator Organa, but beyond that he was on his own.

No, not on his own. Not quite. He was able to visit Luke, more often than he’d expected. Owen and Beru were initially hesitant to allow him around the child, but it didn’t take them long to figure out that Luke was too strong with the Force to be left on his own. Obi-Wan was allowed to teach Luke how to manage his abilities and how to grow into a normal, well-adjusted moisture farmer despite his incredible talents.

Having seen firsthand how such talents could destroy a person, Obi-Wan hadn’t argued, simply glad that they were letting him visit Luke at all. It would have been well within their rights to tell him to fuck off. But they hadn’t, and he’d begun Luke’s lessons, and he’d already grown far, far too fond of the boy.

It hurt, looking at him and seeing Anakin’s eyes peering back at him, but he knew this child was nothing like his father. He felt—different. The Force peacefully hummed around him in a way it never did with Anakin, who was always a buzz of energy and anger.

The weight of knowing he was now responsible for the child of the man he’d failed so dearly was enough to knock the wind out of him, sometimes. Never when people were around, of course. But many nights since coming to Tatooine had found Obi-Wan gasping into his pillow, curling in on himself at the thought of what had happened and the question of how it had all gone _so wrong_.

It was his fault, he knew it. If he had ever listened to Anakin, if he’d approached him about Senator Amidala, if he’d focused on anything besides the war, if he’d convinced the Council to accept Anakin, if he’d been a _better master_ , if, if, _if_ … The list went on forever. It always circled around and pointed back at him, despite Qui-Gon’s assurances to the contrary.

His old master had somehow managed to preserve himself in the Force and had been keeping Obi-Wan company for the past few years, helping him to bridge the isolation of his solitary life on Tatooine. 

Having Qui-Gon around was relieving, comforting, and, quite often, infuriating. The man could pick him apart in seconds, just like when Obi-Wan had been a padawan, and usually took it upon himself to bring up subjects that Obi-Wan would rather ignore.

“You were ready to move on,” Qui-Gon told him, his presence shimmering dimly in the corner of Obi-Wan’s main room. The house wasn’t big by any means; he couldn’t afford anything better, and he really didn’t need the extra space for anything. Still, even with as limited of space as he had and how often he cleaned, sand ended up in every corner and crevice.

 _No wonder Anakin hated the stuff so much,_ Obi-Wan thought as he beat out a pair of his old robes and let the sand collect in a small pile under him. The thought made him hit the cloth slightly harder than necessary.

“I was _not_ ready,” he said tightly, setting the robes aside and moving on to the rest of his laundry. He wanted his old master to stop talking. “I was quite happy being a padawan. And then, all in the course of one day, I somehow managed to lose you and end up with a padawan of my own.”

His hands paused at the memory, voice shaking only slightly as the old wave of grief washed over him. Even after all these years, even with Qui-Gon standing in the same room, he could still feel the panic, rage, and pure disbelief of losing his master, the man he’d worked _so har_ d to impress and finally managed to bond with. The man who’d fallen as Obi-Wan stood trapped behind a barrier, unable to help.

 _If I’d only been faster,_ Obi-Wan thought. If he’d only been _better_.

Sensing his train of thought, Qui-Gon sighed. “It wasn’t your fault, dear one.”

Obi-Wan kept working, trying to fend off the emotions Qui-Gon repeatedly dredged up, with seemingly no remorse. After everything, after Anakin became Vader and Obi-Wan's world had shattered apart, things like controlling emotions had become difficult. He’d never had a problem with it before, but everything was different now.

“According to you, nothing ever is,” he said, mouth twisting unpleasantly.

Qui-Gon, much to Obi-Wan’s infuriation, chuckled. “Perhaps being dead allows me to see things more clearly. Or, perhaps you are too hard on yourself, young one.”

 _Not so young, anymore,_ Obi-Wan thought as he tossed the clothes into a basket, turning to the mantelpiece to straighten its sole occupant: a small metal figure Luke had given him last year on his birthday. On _Luke’s_ birthday, that is, when somehow Luke managed to mix up that he was supposed to be the one _receiving_ presents, not giving them. But the boy had insisted that the metal contraption was for Obi-Wan, holding it out to him proudly and letting Obi-Wan know that he’d made it for him.

Obi-Wan still didn’t know what it was supposed to be, but he loved it and gave it a place of honor in the center of his mostly-bare living room. He could tell that soon Luke, much like his father, would be an adept mechanic. He was already working on fixing droids and had a real knack for it, according to Owen.

“Everything would have been different, if you’d lived,” he said flatly.

“Different, not necessarily better,” Qui-Gon told him with a sigh. “As we both know, I have failed several padawans of my own.”

 “You didn’t fail me,” Obi-Wan told him, still facing the small metal piece. “If you’d lived, Anakin would have had a proper master. That day ruined everything.”

Qui-Gon waited a moment before responding. “You don’t still blame Maul, do you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, and it was the truth. He pressed a hand against the mantel and there was sand even _there_ , grating against his hand. At the time, back in the midst of his pain and confusion, it had been easy to blame Maul for what had happened.

He’d heard about Maul—after. For all he knew at the time, the Sith apprentice had died after Obi-Wan had cut off his legs and let him topple backwards down the reactor shaft.

But apparently he’d lived, somehow, which Obi-Wan had found out several years later upon seeing holo-footage of two Zabraks running around in the outer-rim, one of them familiar even after so much time. In the midst of the war, Obi-Wan could not even be angry that Maul was still alive. He couldn’t spare the energy on anything except making it through another day and trying to pull as many clones and Jedi along with him as he could.

Over the years, he’d learned that there was one main cause for all of his pain: Darth Sidious. Whatever Maul had done, whatever he’d been, it was all due to Sidious. It was hard to hate someone who had been corrupted by the same person who’d stolen Anakin away and twisted him into a monster.

Sidious had sent Maul to deal with them on Naboo, and Maul had been no more than an apprentice, a padawan, just like Obi-Wan. And they’d both been so very young.

“No,” he repeated. “I wish the fight had never happened. I wish that day had gone differently. But no, I don’t still blame Maul.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon said. “Because he’ll be here shortly and will need all the help he can get.”

Obi-Wan turned, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Maul—here?”

“He’s going to crash a few leagues away, out in the Dune Sea. Listen to the Force, Obi-Wan. Do what you do best.”

 _What’s that?_ Obi-Wan started to ask, but Qui-Gon was already gone, his blue glow disappearing as his Force presence faded out of the room. His old master had a way of appearing and disappearing at the most inopportune times.

Huffing in irritation, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon’s advice and stilled his mind, reaching outward with the Force as far as he could. Luke’s presence shone brightly right where it should be at the Lars’ farm, but as he reached out further he became aware of a faint presence, barely detectable but nonetheless there.

It felt too weak for Obi-Wan to determine who or what it was, but there was definitely another Force-sensitive being in relatively close proximity.

 _Could it be Maul?_ Obi-Wan wondered, tugging on his boots. There was only one way to find out.

Pulling on his traveling cloak, Obi-Wan wondered why he should help his old enemy, assuming that’s who the Force presence belonged to.

The Force nudged him, whispering for him to hurry.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he muttered, summoning his saber to clip it under the folds of his robe.

Something was definitely out there—and whatever it was, Obi-Wan hoped it wouldn’t bring him too much trouble.


	3. The Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was almost enough fuel to make it the whole way. Almost.

Maul was dimly aware that the ship was coming in too hot. He’d blinked awake at the persistent beeping of the fuel gauge, letting him know insistently that the tank was empty.

He realized this was an issue, but there was nothing he could do about it. He felt the metal groaning around him as the ship passed through the atmosphere and hurtled downward toward the wide expanse of sand that could only be Tatooine. He’d studied the planet’s geography so many years ago, and knew that his current trajectory aimed toward the middle of nowhere, with no one around for miles.

Why the Force had wanted him to come here, to _Tatooine_ of all places, he didn't know. It took too much energy to analyze anything, at the moment. 

His descent wasn't anywhere near controlled. The landing would be a problem, particularly if he remained in the ship. The sand was getting closer at an alarming rate, and Maul knew he needed to get off the ship before it hit the ground. These small passenger vessels would crumple upon impact, not designed for trauma. Staying inside could mean being trapped, or worse, getting impaled by a piece of the vessel.

Somehow—later he wouldn’t remember—he stumbled to the airlock and overrode the security, flinging the hatch open and waiting for several moments before launching himself out. It was a bit higher than he’d planned for, his depth perception not at its finest, and Maul Force-pushed against the incoming ground as hard as he could while falling in an attempt to soften the impact.

He’d pulled a stunt like this before and managed a decent landing, but at the time he’d been in full control of the Force. Now it wavered, slipping in and out of his grasp. He wondered briefly if this would be the end, still finding it preferable to slowly rotting away, forgotten in a cell and used as target practice.

Even with the additional push, he hit the ground too hard. He thought he felt a crunch, or maybe heard one; it was hard to tell. The impending blackness was warm, this time, filling in around him as something smoked in the distance.

Surprisingly, he caught the edge of a Force-sensitive being—more than one?—nearby. He couldn't gather much more than that before everything disappeared once more.


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan helps out, even when he doesn't necessarily want to.

Obi Wan surveyed the wreckage with a sinking feeling, knowing that if anyone had been inside the ship they were certainly dead. The entire structure had collapsed inward upon impact, the front no longer recognizable. It was clearly an Imperial transport vessel, that much was still obvious even despite the damage.

Parts of the small, wrecked transport were scattered across the sand, some already partially buried. He couldn’t be sure how long ago it landed, but judging by the faint burning smell it had only been a day at most. No scavengers had found it yet, at least. 

The Force presence had blipped in and out of existence, and Obi-Wan had to partially guess his way in order to reach the location.

The Force itself kept nudging him forward, and he’d politely asked it to stop several times.

It wouldn’t.

Stepping over part of the debris, something flickered on the edge of his awareness several meters away. He looked around, not seeing anything but trusting his senses. Walking away from the crash site, he passed over a mound of sand and caught sight of something half buried and very person-looking.

Hurrying over, Obi-Wan could see that it in fact _was_ a person, sprawled on its front and bearing a remarkable red and black pattern visible even under the grime and sand.

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan exclaimed, kneeling beside the person and pressing a hand lightly to their neck as he also reached out to them with the Force.

The face was clearly that of his old enemy. Even with blood streaming out of his nose and several horns missing, Maul was immediately recognizable. And breathing, if only very shallowly.

_He’s alive, then. Qui-Gon was right,_ he thought, carefully checking to see how badly the Zabrak was injured. A faint heartbeat fluttered under his fingertips as the other Force presence stuttered away from Obi-Wan's prodding.

It didn’t look like he’d landed with the ship and walked away, more likely tossing himself out before the crash to avoid being trapped in the wreckage. It was a smart move, even if it hadn’t gone as planned; those small passenger ships were ridiculously unsafe.

“Why are you here?” Obi-Wan wondered aloud. _And what were you doing on an Imperial ship?_

Somehow he doubted that Maul would be a willing part of his former master’s empire. If he had stolen the ship and crashed here, which seemed more likely, Obi-Wan only hoped he’d thought to disable the tracking system before entering the system. The last thing he needed was Imperial scouts coming to Tatooine to search for a missing ship and stumbling upon him, or Luke.

Something felt distinctly wrong, though. Maul was thin, raggedly so, which Obi-Wan could tell even under the thin black tunic he wore. His face had been reduced to gaunt angles, made even more pronounced by his sharp black markings. He wheezed when he breathed, which Obi-Wan knew could mean broken ribs, maybe even a punctured lung. If his position was any indication, the fall had been a rough one. Enough to seriously damage the cybernetic legs, anyway, one of which had broken and the other in rough shape.

It didn’t look like he’d moved at all since the crash, which was not a good sign. Obi-Wan jostled Maul’s shoulder lightly, but it did not appear that he would be waking any time soon.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said, passing a hand across his own face to wipe away the sheen of sweat as well as take a moment to think. Maul did need help, and without it he could easily die out here. The Dune Sea was an unforgiving wasteland, and dehydration alone could kill a person before Sand People ever got close. Especially someone already this injured.

But it was _Maul_.

For the briefest moment, Obi-Wan considered standing up and returning home, leaving Maul where he was. It was an unbecoming thought for a Jedi, but it would be a lie to say the anger from so many years ago was not still present. It was, somewhat, though it had faded over time and carved out more of a dull ache than anything.

The thought shamed him, nonetheless.

_Would you help Anakin, if this was him instead of Maul?_ Obi-Wan asked himself, and the answer was yes. Anakin had hurt him every bit as much as Maul had, but yes, he would still help if he could.

Qui-Gon’s voice sounded in the back of his mind, cementing his decision. “You can’t leave him like this, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head in agreement. He hadn’t trained as a Jedi for so long to forget his compassion now, even if it meant helping someone who definitely was not a friend and most likely a danger to himself. He didn’t seem very dangerous now, though, unconscious and halfway covered in sand.

“Alright,” he repeated, gathering his thoughts before moving to very carefully extract the Zabrak from his position on the ground. It wasn’t hard to pick him up, which came as somewhat of a surprise. In Obi-Wan’s memories from their fight, Maul always seemed much larger.

“The first time we met him was here, on Tatooine,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, and Obi-Wan nodded again.

“I remember.”

Twenty years later, and here they met again, though in a very different fashion. Things always circled around, ending where they began.

“The thing about circles,” Qui-Gon hummed, seeming to hear his thoughts, “is that you can never tell if it’s an end or a beginning. You just have to keep moving forward.”

_I’m trying,_ Obi-Wan thought, shifting the unconscious Zabrak in his arms and trudging steadily back toward the crash. He waved a hand, lifting a good portion of sand and letting it fall over the wrecked ship. It didn’t provide a complete cover, but was better than before.

He would help his old enemy, for better or worse, and hopefully time would tell him whether this was the end of an old chapter or, perhaps, a new start.

 


	5. Healing and Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Force Assist!

Obi-Wan severely hoped that Maul wouldn’t attack him immediately upon waking up. It seemed like a reasonable option, considering that the last time they met it had involved a battle to the death and several limbs being removed.

He kept his lightsaber clipped to his belt just in case it came to another fight, but knew he would have the advantage. Maul didn’t have a lightsaber on him, and he looked pretty worn down. Oh, and his cybernetic legs were definitely broken.

Still, Obi-Wan had a feeling that none of these reasons would prevent Maul from trying. If he’d survived getting his legs cut off and falling down that reactor shaft, there was probably little that could stop him.

He’d settled Maul onto the couch in his living room, which he knew was not particularly comfortable but was a step above lying on the hard floor. Keeping Maul in his house seemed—strange? A good bit unsettling at least, but Obi-Wan didn’t know what else to do with him. Taking him to see a healer would no doubt raise all sorts of flags that he would rather avoid. Keeping a low profile could be hard work, even in a place like Tatooine.

Maul probably _needed_ a healer, though, despite Obi-Wan’s attempts to help him. He’d hit the ground hard, which had been made apparent by the bruising across his face and torso, accompanied by at least three fractured ribs. Obi-Wan couldn’t feel any bones sticking out upon examination, which was something; he also couldn't detect any spinal injuries. Nothing felt or looked too out of place, but they’d know more once Maul woke up.

When he’d pulled the Zabrak’s shirt off, it became obvious that he was severely malnourished. Obi-Wan could count his ribs and see his collarbones jutting out unnaturally. Maul looked much smaller than he had on the holo-footage from several years back.

Obi-Wan knew Zabrak markings extended over their entire bodies, but for some reason he found himself troubled by Maul’s. Taking a moment to ponder that, he realized he’d only ever seen Maul’s face in the past, the rest of him shrouded in robes and cloak. During their fight he hadn’t even seen Maul’s hands, which were covered by thick leather gloves.

Taking one of those hands in his own, Obi-Wan stared at the skin on Maul’s fingers and for a moment wondered how a former Sith could look so very breakable.

Beyond the injuries from the wreck, Maul also had healed-and-still-healing signs of what looked worryingly similar to torture. If the bruises on his wrists and neck were any indication, he’d been restrained before the crash for probably a good amount of time. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to feel about that and decided to push away the thoughts for later.

Three of Maul’s horns were gone but Obi-Wan knew that Zabraks could re-grow them, so he wasn’t overly worried about their absence. The bruising on his face was more concerning, which had worsened after Obi-Wan set a definitely-broken nose.

Maul hadn’t even stirred.

Beyond the injuries and the weight loss, he looked different than Obi-Wan remembered. Maybe he just hadn’t had the chance to observe the former-Sith so closely, or while he was so unguarded. But putting it simply, Maul looked older. Tired. Beaten down.

The lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth reminded Obi-Wan of how much time had passed. He, himself, had a few grey hairs to show for it, and wondered for a moment if Maul would even recognize him upon waking. The last time they’d met, Obi-Wan was still sporting his padawan braid and lacked any of the facial hair he’d cultivated since.

Something tugged in Obi-Wan’s chest, and he set about fixing the bandages surrounding Maul’s side horn that wanted to keep bleeding.

Obi-Wan had never been a healer, but he knew the basics. He’d had to learn—they all did, during the war—how to treat injuries and to check for anything life-threatening. He’d done a total review of systems with Maul, using what sparse medical equipment he kept and not finding anything too critical. But Maul had been through quite a lot, if looks were anything to go by; much more than just the crash. Recovery would take time.

“Try Force Healing,” Qui-Gon suggested from the corner where he’d sat in Obi-Wan’s chair to observe their new houseguest.

Obi-Wan tilted his head to shoot a glance back at his old master. “I was never any good at it. You know that.”

Qui-Gon smiled, clearly in agreement. “It worked on Anakin several times,” he reminded Obi-Wan, who tried hard to keep his face neutral as those memories swam to life.

“You need to meditate,” Qui-Gon told him softly. “Your thoughts are a mess.”

Obi-Wan had been having trouble with meditation, recently, something that Qui-Gon never failed to remind him about. It was hard to find his center, now that he’d lost it. He didn’t even know where to start most days.

“Perhaps if you focus your energy on a Force Assist you’ll be able to fall into meditation,” Qui-Gon suggested.

“Isn’t that backwards?” Obi-Wan asked him, quirking a brow. One could only Force Heal when deep in meditation, something every Jedi knew.

“Possibly,” Qui-Gon said lightly. “But you need something to ground yourself.”

He’d expressed this before, and Obi-Wan knew it was true. He was always most focused, most centered, while working with Luke. The boy gave him a purpose. Once he was alone again, his thoughts ran in every direction and it was hard to rein them back in.

“Fine,” Obi-Wan relented, settling on the floor beside the couch and closing his eyes.

He straightened his spine, focusing on finding the healing energy within himself. Reaching out to Maul, he hit an impenetrable mental shield which tightened down even further upon Obi-Wan’s presence, flinching away hard. Obi-Wan wondered how long it had taken to build up shields like that, and for what purpose.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he muttered, regulating his breathing and trying to find a rhythm. He didn’t need to enter Maul’s mind, merely wrap around his presence before attempting the transfer.

He focused, trying to guide the stream of healing energy toward Maul with some difficulty. Settling into the flow, he relaxed and felt his heart slow to a dull thump, beating steadily under the rush of Force spreading outward from him.

The calmness came of its own accord, organizing his thoughts and pulling him inward. He stopped thinking at all, and merely let the Force flow through him.

 

***

*

By that night, Maul still hadn’t woken.

Obi-Wan had found his center, though, and completed the Force Assist, feeling Maul’s bones shifting slightly under his guidance and smoothing over some of the older discomfort.

It wasn’t perfect by any means, but Obi-Wan hadn’t tried such a thing in a long time. The last person had been Anakin, and their Force bond allowed Obi-Wan to feel exactly where and how much healing needed to be done, something he couldn’t do with Maul.

So, no, it wasn’t a perfect job. But Obi-Wan felt reasonably good about it and hoped that Maul felt somewhat better—or would, once he woke up. Having suffered several broken ribs himself over the years, Obi-Wan knew how incredibly painful they were.

The last time he’d cracked a rib had actually been one of the times Anakin had tried to Force Heal _him_ , an attempt which failed miserably but had been rather endearing all the same. Anakin had never been good at centering himself, finding meditation nearly impossible.

Obi-Wan let his thoughts drift as he pulled off his tunic, feeling tired after a full day of making sure the Zabrak on his couch wouldn’t spontaneously die on him, or wake up and attack.

He was almost to the bed when something tugged in his mind, directly where his bond with Anakin used to be. A stab of pain made him stagger backwards, holding onto the wall for support.

The bond between Anakin and himself hadn’t been broken when it was supposed to be during the knighting ceremony. Anakin had wanted to keep their connection, and in the midst of the war it gave them an easy way to check in on each other. Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason to break it at the time.

The bond had continued to exist until their fight on Mustafar, when Obi-Wan had ripped it apart hurriedly, scorching it down to nothing as he’d left Anakin— _Vader_ , he corrected himself—burning on the ground.

It was agony worse than anything he’d felt before, tearing that bond apart so abruptly. It hurt for months afterward, a reminder of what had happened, of what he’d done.

It still seared sometimes, like right now.

Whatever was happening on the other side of that cleaved bond, whatever Vader was doing and wherever he was, Obi-Wan felt the undeniable, unmistakable flare of rage that he’d experienced before and would never forget. Back then, he’d thought it was due to Anakin’s mother dying; later he found out about the Sand People and the slaughter, and what that feeling really meant.

Vader was killing.

Obi-Wan clutched at his chest, sinking down against the wall and waiting for the sensation to pass. It always did, only to return unexpectedly at some later time.

 _How many people has he killed now_? Obi-Wan questioned. He wondered if there was a point that someone couldn’t turn back from.

Something wet hit his hands, and he reached up to press a hand over his eyes, mourning whoever just lost their life at the hands of his former padawan.

Sitting at the base of the wall and feeling very alone, Obi-Wan wondered what good could come from any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Maul wakes up!


	6. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul wakes up to a familiar face and has no idea what's going on.

The first thing Maul noticed when his eyes blinked open was that the fog of whatever drug had been in his system was finally clear.

 _Good_.

Unfortunately, this also meant there was no buffer against the pain that throbbed across his entire body. It wasn’t as bad as it should have been, which was actually somewhat worrying. He remembered the solid _thump_ of the impact when he’d hit the ground, would be remembering it for a long time, and knew he should be hurting much more severely.

The second thing he noticed was that someone else’s Force signature was all over him; it had been rubbed across his mind and body and tingled on the edges of his awareness.

Someone had found him and moved him. He was no longer outdoors, but lying on a somewhat soft surface that was definitely not sand. Potentially also worrying.

The presence almost felt… familiar? But he couldn’t place why.

Until he noticed the third thing.

A man was sitting across the room from him in a chair, auburn hair and beard framing the face of the one and only, unmistakable Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_Not good._

Seeing his old enemy sitting so close by and clearly armed was _definitely_ worrying. Maul hadn’t encountered him in person since their fight on Naboo, but everyone knew the face of the famous Jedi General. Images of Skywalker and Kenobi had been everywhere during the war, even in the Outer Rim.

Kenobi looked much older now than the angry padawan he’d fought and almost beaten. Tired blue eyes peered at him across the room, dark circles speaking of a sleepless night, or nights. Any of the old fire was well-hidden if it still existed at all. He wore the traditional pale Jedi robes and leggings, but they looked worn and rumpled, nothing a Jedi would ever be caught wearing.

Maul had figured Kenobi died along with the other Jedi, hearing of the conquest—or more accurately, massacre—through Sidious’ gloating. Apparently he’d lived, though, unless Maul was dead as well and they were trapped in some unfortunate purgatory together.

He tried to sit up, pain shooting through his chest and keeping him flat on his back. So, not dead, then. Which meant Kenobi was also real, and that _his_ Force presence was smothered all over Maul.

 _Ugh_.

“Perhaps a little slower, next time,” Kenobi said, keeping his distance but watching him carefully, warily.

Maul reached up to his face, feeling his nose and moving onward to check his horns. _Broken,_ he assessed for both. As were his ribs. Things could be (and had been) much worse.

Oddly enough, he could feel himself well on the way to being healed, which was surprising.

“Kenobi,” he ground out, hearing the hoarseness scratching in his voice. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here,” Kenobi responded calmly, and why anyone would choose to live _here_ , of all places, was beyond Maul.

“Where am I?” he asked, wondering what sort of prison Kenobi was keeping him in.  

“Tatooine,” Kenobi told him, and Maul turned a derisive eye back to him.

“Obviously,” he stated dryly. “Where on Tatooine?”

Kenobi gestured around with his hands somewhat hesitantly. “This is my home.”

 _His… what?_ Maul wondered, letting his gaze quickly travel the length of the room. He should have taken better stock of his surroundings upon waking up; it was a rookie mistake. Always find the exits first, he’d learned that well. Search for vantage points, anticipate the attack.

It looked like a house of sorts, small and mostly empty, but clearly lived-in. Not particularly threatening, and nothing like a cell.

But he knew that anything could be a trap, and the man in the room with him was a _Jedi_ ; one who had already tried to kill him in the past (and almost succeeded, if he were being honest). The thought made his lip curl a fraction.

Kenobi hadn’t moved since Maul had woken, though, except to twist a cup of something between his hands anxiously. Why the Jedi hadn’t killed him yet was a mystery. Even more of a mystery was how he’d ended up on this _particular_ Jedi’s couch instead of left to bake in the unforgiving sun.

He voiced as much, forcing his tired brain to keep working. “Why am I here?”

Obi-Wan looked at him thoughtfully, tapping along the edge of his mug inadvertently. “You tell me. I picked you up a few leagues out in the Dune Sea yesterday. It looked like a nasty crash.”

Maul didn’t remember anything after hitting the ground. Even things before that were fuzzy, everything except that clear direction he’d felt through the Force, practically ordering him to go to Tatooine.

Had it brought him here to kill (or be killed by) Kenobi after all this time? It would be oddly poetic, to end things where they began. He would be no match for the Jedi, not in this state. There was no point in dragging out the inevitable. 

“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it,” Maul growled, closing his eyes for a moment as exhaustion rolled over him.

He wanted to get up and give Kenobi the rematch he deserved, but another, more insistent part of him wanted to keep laying down. It was the first time in ages he wasn't being prodded at or electrocuted or torn apart. Maul was never one for pointless musing, but he also wouldn't complain if this moment of stillness lasted just a bit longer. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Kenobi said wryly, and Maul cracked an eye to see him looking slightly perplexed. He thought he felt Kenobi’s Force presence grow the faintest bit amused.

 _He isn’t shielding properly,_ Maul thought in irritation. Jedi were useless.

Something in his expression prompted Kenobi to continue.

“I pulled you, half-dead, out of the desert and did my best to mend your ribs. If I was going to kill you I would have left you out there. It would have been much easier.”

Maul could feel the truth ringing behind his words, not that it made any sense.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, trying again to sit up and managing to pull himself into a mostly upright position despite the protesting ribs. His legs didn’t want to move, and upon examination he found that one was gone, the other still attached but not responding. That was… a slightly more unfortunate complication.

Kenobi stared at him with uncertain blue eyes, mouth partially open. He floundered for a moment. “I’m not accustomed to letting anyone die if I can do something to prevent it.”

A different answer hung in the air between them.

 _He doesn’t know why,_ Maul thought. Jedi and their ridiculous codes of morality.

“How are the ribs?” Kenobi asked him, bridging the growing silence. “I tried to fix what I could, but it was hard to know how bad they were.”

Maul passed a hand lightly over his chest and abdomen, realizing that Kenobi must have tried to Force Heal him. That would explain the abnormally fast signs of healing. He wasn’t sure why the thought bothered him so much, but it did explain why he could feel Kenobi’s presence crawling all over him. The layer of grime had also been removed from his skin and he could only guess that had also been the Jedi’s work.

He studied Kenobi, unsure why he would try to help at all. After what had transpired between them on Naboo, he’d assumed the Jedi would kill him immediately if ever given the chance. He had beaten Kenobi's master, after all, even if it had been two decades ago. 

Maul wasn't quite sure what to say. Luckily for him, Kenobi apparently rambled on when he was nervous.

“Once the swelling goes down, your nose should be fine as well. It didn’t look like you had any skull fractures, but I couldn’t do much for the horns. Or the legs.”

Right, the legs.

Maul shifted, trying to feel anything in the one remaining leg to no avail. Without legs, getting out of here was going to be problematic. Not impossible, but highly impractical and far more effort than he could muster up, currently.

Which meant for the time being, he was stuck here. With Kenobi. Assuming Kenobi wouldn’t change his mind and try to kill him.

_Wonderful._

The Force had a terrible sense of humor.

“I kept the other,” Kenobi said, gesturing to the floor beside the couch where the other leg lay, "but I really don’t know much about reattaching or fixing them. I would have taken you to a real healer but couldn’t risk it. If the Empire is looking for you or followed your ship, that would have signaled them to your location, and mine. I’m sorry.”

Maul blinked, not sure why the Jedi was apologizing.

“Did you, ah, happen to disable the tracker before you came here?” Kenobi asked hesitantly.

“I’m not stupid, Kenobi,” Maul snarled, or would have snarled if he’d had enough energy. It was a half-hearted snarl at best.

“That’s not what I was implying,” Kenobi told him. “I just need to protect—my location.”

Maul caught the slight stumble and wondered what Kenobi had really wanted to say.

A curl of anxiety spiked through the Force, even despite Kenobi's calm mannerism. It had taken Maul a moment, but he realized that Kenobi actually  _was_  shielding, quite powerfully and covering a large radius. It went far beyond himself—beyond the house, even—stretching somewhat thin around the edges and letting some of his emotions slip through. 

 _No wonder I didn't feel him until I hit the ground,_ Maul thought, followed quickly by:  _What is he hiding?_

“I have some painkillers, if you want anything?” Kenobi asked, half-rising from his chair. Maul tracked his movements, ready for the attack (which still didn’t seem to be coming, strangely).

The thought of taking any type of drug, even a painkiller, made him nauseous. Or maybe that was the hunger.

“No,” he said firmly, and Kenobi seemed to flounder once more.

“Well, then. I’m going to make something to eat. Are you hungry?”

The Jedi didn’t wait for an answer before heading to the kitchen, and Maul wondered for a moment what sort of game this was. Kenobi really didn’t seem to want to kill him; even his Force signature was calm. Maul probed outward, hitting the layer of deep fatigue surrounding the Jedi and wondering if his own Force presence felt the same.

Something else was off, though. It _almost_ felt like another Force user was around, but Maul couldn’t quite put his finger on who or where. The house was definitely empty besides the two of them; he trusted his senses enough to know that much.

He briefly contemplated getting up and trying to leave while Kenobi was in the other room, but without his legs the effort would not be a dignified one. The last thing he needed was Kenobi to see him crawling on the floor in an attempt to get away. What a pathetic show of weakness.

It wouldn’t be any good to show the Jedi what sort of a state he was really in.

 _He already knows,_ Maul reminded himself unhappily.

People didn’t do things for him, perform acts of decency, without an angle or expecting anything in return. He supposed in time he would find out what Kenobi really was up to.

The only person who’d ever helped him because they’d actually _wanted_ to was Savage, but—he pushed that thought away before it could fully form. Savage was gone, had been gone for a long time; thinking about him wouldn’t change anything.

Whatever the Jedi was heating up smelled, well... it smelled like real food. Something Maul hadn’t been around in ages. He didn’t know what Kenobi was playing at, but Maul decided to wait and figure it out when he had slightly more energy.

For now, he would accept whatever strange truce he’d stumbled into and hope that the Force knew what it was doing by bringing him here.


	7. First Impressions and Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Maul get to talk.

Obi-Wan had been surprised by several things about Maul.

For one, when his eyes finally cracked open, there was no sign of the red-rimmed, glowing irises of the Sith Obi-Wan had dueled on Naboo. The eyes that groggily focused on him were a dull gold, faded and much deeper than they had been twenty years ago. They looked at him tiredly, lacking any of the rage that had burned within them during their fight.  

For another, Maul hadn’t instantly tried to escape or fight him off in a rage, instead laying still and surveying the room tiredly. His attempt to sit up ended poorly, and he instead began to check over his injuries with slow, sure movements.

He’d wondered aloud why Obi-Wan hadn’t killed him or left him for dead, which Obi-Wan didn’t have a real answer for.

“Qui-Gon told me to save you” and “The Force wanted you alive?” seemed like poor explanations, though they were the only ones he had.

Answers were always easier to come up with after a good night of sleep, which he hadn’t gotten. After the tug on his and Anakin’s old bond, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours. By the time the sun was creeping up, he decided he would just get up and start the day.

He used to spend many sleepless nights during the war without batting an eye. Funny, how small things were getting harder the older he got.

He’d let Owen know that he wouldn’t be at Luke’s lessons today, making up an excuse about feeling ill. Obi-Wan had never skipped out on Luke and didn’t want to start now, knowing the boy would be disappointed, but he felt odd leaving his house while Maul was there. Not that he had anything in the house he was particularly worried about, but leaving simply felt wrong.

He was especially glad he’d stayed in when his guest woke up late in the morning.

Maul had appeared more confused and suspicious at Obi-Wan’s attempts to help him than anything else. It was an understandable reaction. Jedi and Sith, historically, did not help each other under any circumstances.

The legs had been a tough subject to breach, and Obi-Wan mentally prepared for Maul to berate him over the result of their fight. But he hadn’t said a word about it. That was another thing that surprised Obi-Wan: Maul’s lack of hostility.

Not exactly sure of what to say to his guest, Obi-Wan escaped to the kitchen to heat up food for both of them. He couldn’t tell the last time Maul had eaten a proper meal, but it almost hurt to see the way his bones shifted under his skin.

The Zabrak hadn’t tried to move from the couch, accepting a plate from Obi-Wan and sniffing it suspiciously. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own food, indicating that it wasn’t poisoned. Maul slowly began to eat his own, and Obi-Wan tried not to notice the way Maul’s hands shook around his plate and fork.

“How long are you planning to keep me here?” Maul asked bluntly, and Obi-Wan looked at him in surprise.

“Keep you here?” he repeated with a frown. “You’re quite free to leave whenever you choose.”

Maul made a vague gesture at his legs. “I can’t.”

“I suppose not,” Obi-Wan relented, watching Maul devour his plate within a minute. “Is there somewhere else here you want to go?”

“No,” Maul shook his head, setting his fork down on an empty plate.

“Well then,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

If Maul didn’t want to be here but he also didn’t want to be anywhere else, Obi-Wan really didn’t know what to tell him.

Something about the tone of Maul’s voice struck Obi-Wan as slightly odd. He realized he’d never heard the other man speak in the past; they hadn’t exactly stopped to converse during their fight, and Obi-Wan never knew what to imagine. The soft, slanting timber of Maul’s voice wasn’t what he’d pictured.

“Why Tatooine?” he asked after a moment, wondering what could have drawn Maul to here, of all places.

“The Force led me here,” Maul told him, and Obi-Wan decided not to pry into that answer too much.

“Did you run out of fuel? Where were you heading?”

Maul twitched slightly, a spike of something unnamable running through the Force.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I—escaped. Re-routed the ship.”

“Escaped?” Obi-Wan pressed, curious. It was strangely nice to talk to someone outside of Qui-Gon or Owen (or Luke, despite how much he loved that boy). Even if that person was Maul. “From?”

“The Emperor,” Maul said tightly, soft voice dipping even lower .

 _Oh dear._ That was essentially the worst-case scenario. If he’d been held prisoner by Sidious, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine what sort of nightmare he’d lived through.

“He captured you?” Obi-Wan asked.

Maul shot him a look that said ‘obviously, idiot’, before answering, “We fought. I lost.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan muttered feeling his appetite dying.

If Sidious had held and tortured Maul, that would explain a lot of the markings he’d found scattered across the Zabrak’s body. And since Sidious had already set his eye on a new apprentice, he wouldn’t have much use for his old one. Seeing Maul’s eyes twitch toward his plate, Obi-Wan passed it across to him without a word.

“How long did he have you?” Obi-Wan asked, wanting to know and simultaneously not wanting to know at all.

Maul thought with a small frown creasing his forehead, shoveling the second plate of food into his mouth at record speed. He was a neat eater, which Obi-Wan noted with approval.

“Since before the Jedi fell. Before anyone knew about him.”

 _That long?_ Obi-Wan thought, feeling slightly sick. How Maul had survived through that much time was impressive, and horrifying.

Sensing Obi-Wan’s shocked gaze, Maul shrugged uncomfortably.

“You’ve been here ever since the Order's fall?” he asked, clearly trying to escape Obi-Wan’s line of inquiry and direct it somewhere other than himself.

Obi-Wan nodded, pulling up his legs under him in the chair to sit more comfortably. “A few of us survived. We went into hiding.”

He didn’t feel too guilty telling this to Maul, especially after finding out about his years of captivity. He was no friend of the Emperor, that was certain.

“It’s been mostly quiet, here, until you showed up.”

Maul didn’t respond, stacking the plates on top of one another and making a move to hand them back to Obi-Wan. He looked on the verge of saying something, but instead let out a small huff of air.

“Why are you helping me, Kenobi?” he asked again, searching Obi-Wan’s face for an answer. When Obi-Wan didn’t answer, he made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I killed your master,” Maul said, and Obi-Wan didn’t know quite how to respond to that direct assessment.

“You did.” He waited a beat. “And I cut off your legs.”

It apparently wasn’t the answer Maul wanted to hear, and one of his hands tightened around the plates.

“Why aren’t you angry?” he finally asked, and this was possibly the most surprising question he could have asked.

 _Why aren’t you?_ Obi-Wan thought, and he must have projected slightly more than he’d meant to judging by the slight wrinkling of Maul’s nose as his lip curled up.

“I was,” Obi-Wan told him. “I am. But I think, if we could go back to that day, neither of us would want it to end up the way it did.”

It wasn’t an answer, not really, but it seemed to be enough for Maul. He relaxed a fraction and passed the plates back to Obi-Wan.

“Thank you. For the food,” Maul forced out, and Obi-Wan could hear the unfamiliarity of those words on his tongue. That was the biggest thing that surprised him—the thanks. Maul didn’t have to say anything at all, but he had.

“You’re quite welcome,” Obi-Wan replied, wondering about Maul for the first time. Not wondering whether Maul was alive or wanted to kill him, but really _about_ him: who he was, beyond being a failed Sith. Why he held his fork facing the wrong direction when he ate. What made him rub his pinky against his leg when being asked questions. Who he _was_.

After so many years of thinking he knew, Obi-Wan realized he really hadn’t the slightest idea.


	8. Things that are fixable, and aren’t.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul misses his lightsaber.

Maul knew he could fix the leg that was still attached to him. It was broken, both above and below the knee joint, but everything was still connected to his thigh the way it was supposed to be. He had some experience with cybernetics, tinkering with his own occasionally over the years, and this would be a repair well within his abilities.

The other leg he would be able to put back together, slowly, but attaching it back to himself could present an issue. He would worry about fixing it first, and afterward try to solve the problem of getting it back on.

Kenobi was caught off guard when Maul asked him for tools but still went to look for them, pulling out the few he had stashed away. It was a pathetic collection and Maul told him as much.

“Well, I’m not a mechanic,” Kenobi said, sounding somewhat offended.

“ _I_ am,” Maul told him. He wondered what the Jedi _could_ do, beyond being generally annoying. And making decent food.

He asked Kenobi where he could acquire a very specific list of tools and parts, and Kenobi stroked his beard pensively.

“I would be able to find everything in Mos Eisley, but it sounds expensive. I don’t have the credits to spare.”

“I have credits,” Maul told him. “It should be plenty to cover what I need.”

Kenobi looked at him shrewdly, one eyebrow raising as he continued to stroke his beard. “How do you have credits, if I may ask?”

“I took them off the pilot of my vessel,” Maul explained.

Kenobi frowned, “I didn’t see a pilot. Where was he?”

“Dead. I killed him,” Maul said shortly. The corners of Kenobi’s eyes tightened slightly, and Maul crossed his arms across his chest irritably. “It was my only chance to escape, Kenobi.”

The Jedi didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t like the idea of using stolen credits,” he said uncertainly.

Maul snorted in annoyance. “He can’t use them now.”

“I suppose not,” Kenobi admitted. He looked generally unhappy but agreed to go all the same. He left a large jug of water and a plate of food on the short table beside the couch before leaving. “I should be back by this evening, it might take me a while to find a few of these parts,” he told Maul.

Maul shrugged; he didn’t care how long it took Kenobi as long as he would be able to start working on his legs soon. The quicker he was able to fix them, the quicker he could get out of here and away from his old enemy.

“If you need anything…” Kenobi started, but Maul cut him off.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” Kenobi nodded. “Alright. Well then, I suppose I’ll see you later.”

Maul watched him leave, wondering again why Kenobi was agreeing to do this for him. He easily could have said no, or left Maul to figure out his problems on his own. It seemed like he was doing it just to be a good person—

No, that couldn’t be it. There had to be some ulterior motive.

Something was going on behind the scenes, Maul just didn’t know what it was yet. Kenobi was shielding something from him, heavily, and Maul still hadn’t been able to place the odd presence he felt flitting around Kenobi’s house occasionally. He could have sworn he'd heard Kenobi talking to someone in the other room earlier that morning.

This was the first time Kenobi had left him alone (except at night) and Maul used the chance to really scope out the living room. The Jedi certainly wasn’t one for frivolity. Everything in the house had some use, some purpose, beside the odd metal figurine in the center of the mantel. Maul had no idea what the thing was but had seen Kenobi look at it fondly several times. He’d tried to decide if it had some purpose, but the contraption was rather hideous and it remained a puzzle.

He eyed the saber beside it, which Kenobi had left for him in case of emergency. Maul was extremely shocked by this, having Kenobi leave him such a weapon—his _own_ weapon—so easily, but Kenobi insisted on giving him some manner of protection since Maul couldn’t really move around.

“I could at least run away, if I get into trouble,” Kenobi said jokingly, and Maul had eyed him suspiciously until the smile died. “Really, though, I can’t bring it into town with me. That would be practically asking for someone to turn me in,” he explained.

It made sense; no one could know who Kenobi was, not if he wanted to keep living. The moment his name got out, the Imperial army would descend. Vader himself might even make an appearance, considering who Kenobi was to him. Maul had heard enough from Sidious to figure out _that_ mystery.

Still, it surprised him that Kenobi had left it for him, within his grasp. It seemed a dangerous move, arming him with a weapon like that.

Maul looked at the lightsaber wistfully, wanting to feel the cold metal under his skin. He hadn’t touched a lightsaber in years, his own long lost. He longed to feel the crystals and the hum of the blade running through his palm.

He managed to wait the better part of an hour before the temptation was too great and he used the Force to summon Kenobi’s saber into his hand.

It was nothing like his own, but the feel of the metal was delicious after being deprived for so long. He closed his eyes, feeling Kenobi’s crystal buzzing faintly in the Force. It felt—like Kenobi, he thought. Maul thumbed over the switch and watched the blade spring to life, humming in front of his face with a blue sheen.

The last lightsaber Maul made had been the deep red of any Sith’s blade. Those crystals had called to him, responded to him. It was a heady feeling, using that blade; more like an extension of his own arm than a separate weapon.

He missed the lightsaber, dearly.

 _It’s gone,_ he chided himself. _You’re not getting it back._

He hated Sidious for that nearly as much as for torturing him, or ripping their bond apart, or raising him so cruelly, or _abandoning_ him when he needed help the most—

Maul’s lip pulled up and he felt his hands clench into fists.

He thumbed Kenobi’s saber back off but kept holding onto it for a while. Just having a lightsaber in his hand, even though it wasn’t his own, was relieving. Through his life, there weren't many things Maul could call his own; his lightsaber was one of the few things he could fully claim. He used to feel _complete,_  back when he'd had his saber, even after his legs were gone.

He sent the lightsaber back to the mantelpiece, leaving it in roughly the same position he’d taken it from. Kenobi would know he’d held it, regardless.

 _Force_ he missed having a saber of his own.

But he was alive, and that was more important. And soon, if Kenobi came through, he would have legs again.

Some things, at least, were fixable.


	9. A Quick Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since we haven't seen Qui-Gon in a little while...

The parts Maul wanted hadn’t been that hard to find. It would have been easier if Maul had been there to direct him and let him know which tools were overpriced, but Obi-Wan did his best and headed home to dump the load of supplies on the floor of the main room.

Maul’s eyes lit up, something _almost_ hopeful sparking to life for a moment before he retreated quickly behind his shields once more.

“This should be everything,” Kenobi told him, watching as Maul leveraged himself off the couch and onto the floor to start picking through the parts carefully. “There were credits left over if—”

“Keep them,” Maul cut him off, shooting a quick look his way before delving into the pile before him and effectively ignoring the rest of the world.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan muttered, grabbing the empty plate and jug off the table and bringing them into the kitchen.

He wanted to watch Maul work, but also figured his lurking presence might not be appreciated. Shooting a glance over to the mantelpiece, he noticed his lightsaber was still there (if in a slightly different position than he’d left it). Summoning it over to himself, he clipped it back onto hist belt. Out here, there was no one on the prowl for Jedi or keeping an eye out for anything unusual.

Obi-Wan stepped outside again, feeling like taking a walk to mull things over before the suns dipped down out of view. Before long, Qui-Gon’s presence appeared beside him, walking steadily along at the same pace.

“How is he?” Qui-Gon asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Better. Healing,” Obi-Wan said. “I think—he had a rather tough go of it, for a while.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed. “He feels conflicted. But nothing like he did twenty years ago.”

Obi-Wan felt conflicted himself. “He does feel different.”

“People change,” Qui-Gon said calmly. “Sometimes for worse, sometimes for better.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“You’ve changed, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon told him, “even if you can’t feel it yourself.”

“I think I can feel it. Sometimes,” Obi-Wan said with a frown, stroking his beard and thinking. “Other times I don’t know what I am anymore.”

They walked in companionable silence, the sand under one set of feet _shushing_ softly between them.

“You’re doing a good thing, helping Maul,” Qui-Gon said. “I doubt many people have done that for him, during his life.”

“Do you think—” Obi-Wan started, biting the inside of his cheek, “do you think there’s a certain point a person can’t come back from? If someone goes too dark?”

Qui-Gon turned away contemplatively, hair blowing lightly in a phantom wind. “I think you should never give up on anyone, regardless of how difficult that is. Sometimes people just need someone else to believe in them.”

The words stuck a bit too close to home, and Obi-Wan remembered being small and wishing anyone would give him a chance and somehow, _somehow_ ending up with Qui-Gon after being pushed away so many times. The nostalgia made him walk a few paces closer to Qui-Gon, even if he couldn’t physically reach out to him.

Qui-Gon smiled at the feeling hitting him through the Force and turned a fond eye to his former padawan. “Oh, Obi-Wan, your heart is a wonderful thing. I’m glad you didn’t lose yourself in all the darkness.”

“I never felt dark,” he replied, and it was the truth. Even after everything with Anakin, he just felt… empty; as though he’d been hollowed out and left as a shell of himself.

He wondered for a moment what it would feel like, to be dark-side, and how Maul felt now that he was no longer a Sith.

The thought of Maul made him shake his head. “I have no idea why the Force directed him here.”

Qui-Gon made a noncommittal grunt. “The Force works in mysterious ways. Keep an open mind. Perhaps you can both learn something from each other.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up very soon: Luke!


	10. Babysitting (round 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beru needs someone to watch Luke, and Obi-Wan is the obvious option.

The next few days passed reasonably, Maul sitting on Obi-Wan’s living room floor and tinkering away on his leg determinedly. Obi-Wan was fairly impressed at his mechanical skills; it was clear that Maul’s hands were built for craft. He had deft fingers and a sharp eye for detail, and Obi-Wan speculated about what he would have been if Sidious hadn’t grabbed him at such a young age.

There were details about Maul that Obi-Wan found himself inadvertently noticing. He had a funny way of wrinkling his forehead when he was particularly focused, and Obi-Wan actually felt himself grinning at the sight. Maul almost caught him once, looking up at him with a quirked brow, and Obi-Wan wiped the smile from his face quickly. Eyeing Obi-Wan bemusedly, Maul turned back to his work.

They kept up the routine of Obi-Wan making food for both of them and Maul thanking him afterward. It wasn’t much, but there was a sort of peaceful truce that lay between them—precariously balanced and very uncertain, but definitively there.

After helping Maul get to the ‘fresher several times, Obi-Wan had dealt with a very disgruntled Maul who seemed frustrated that he couldn’t repay Obi-Wan in any way for all his help.

“There’s nothing I can even _do_ ,” he stated sourly. “Just leave me on the floor, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan tried not to laugh at the dramatic outburst, and assured Maul that once he was back on his feet he could repay him by fixing up several things around the house that needed attention.

“You’re clearly very good at it,” Obi-Wan told him, and Maul finally agreed.

Beyond the occasional snappy retort, Maul actually seemed to be in a decent mood. He was certainly starting to look better physically, and he'd stopped shooting glances Obi-Wan’s way as though he expected an attack at any given moment.

After a week of hosting a guest, Obi-Wan realized how very empty his house had felt before, and thought that he enjoyed having the extra company.

 * * *

The reasonable spell ended quickly, though, in the form of Beru arriving at the door. Obi-Wan was outside when she showed up and managed to intercept her before she could get too close. She had Luke with her, who jumped off their speeder and tossed himself at Obi-Wan.

“Oh—” Obi-Wan huffed, the wind getting knocked out of him for a moment. “Hello, Luke. Beru, how are you?”

“Obi-Wan, I really hate to intrude on you like this,” she said looking anxious. Her hair was pulled up haphazardly and she looked rather frazzled. She and Luke had been to his house only once before, and it had been quite a while ago. Owen had opted not to come, which appeared to be the case once again. Obi-Wan got the feeling that Beru liked him a great deal more than Owen did.

“What is it, are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked, thinking nervously of Maul sitting just inside and hoping that he wouldn’t feel the need to investigate the disturbance. Not that he could get too far, currently.

“Oh yes, we’re fine,” she said, getting interrupted by Luke.

“You ok, Obi?” he asked, tugging on Obi-Wan’s hand and reaching up to fist the material of the base of his tunic. 

“Luke was very worried, after you told us you were sick last week,” Beru explained.

“I’m quite well, little one,” Obi-Wan told him, squatting down to straighten Luke’s chronically-askew collar. “Nothing a bit of rest didn’t fix.”

“Obi-Wan, is there any way you could look after Luke today?” Beru asked him, one hand planted on Luke’s blonde head to keep him from running. “It’s right in the middle of the harvest, and he’s been getting in Owen’s way. I know he doesn’t mean to, he just wants to help, but Own is getting frustrated. You’d be doing us a huge favor.”

Obi-Wan straightened up and felt his gut drop a notch. _Keep Luke—here?_

“Beru, any other time I would say yes, but today really isn’t good. I have someone staying with me right now, and I don’t know if—”

“ _Please_ , Obi-Wan,” she practically begged. “Just for the day. I’ll come to get him this evening, but it would mean the world to us.”

She sounded fairly desperate, eyes imploring him to say yes, and Luke looked too hopeful to refuse. Obi-Wan felt his resolve crumbling swiftly.

“Oh, yes, alright,” he consented, and Beru looked so relieved that he couldn’t even regret his decision.

“ _Thank you,_ Obi-Wan,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Luke, be on your very best behavior. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

Luke waved to her as she took off on the speeder, latching on to Obi-Wan’s leg and looking up at him with an enormous grin.

“What’re we doin’ today, Obi?” he asked, peering up with giant blue eyes.

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan said, thinking.

He would need to try to keep Luke outside of the house, if possible. Not that he thought Maul would do anything, but as much as Obi-Wan didn’t want anyone to know about himself, he _really_ didn’t want anyone to know about Luke.

“How about we make up our lesson from last week?” he suggested. “We were working on mediation, remember?”

Luke scrunched up his nose. “Don’t wanna.”

To be fair, Luke was too young to really be able to meditate yet. He was still learning to reach out and feel other presences, Force-user or otherwise. It was a work in progress, but Obi-Wan did think that it could be beneficial for Luke to learn to center himself at an early age, given his father’s particular inability.

“Just for a while,” Obi-Wan told him. “Come over here.” He gently pried Luke off his leg and held out a hand, leading him over to sit a good way off from the house.

He sat cross-legged in the sand, gesturing for Luke to do the same beside him. Luke was a quick learner and always tried his hardest to do what Obi-Wan told him. He did lose focus often, as a result of being so young, but that was to be expected. Obi-Wan had dealt with Jedi younglings in the Temple, and they were always the same: well-meaning but easily distractible.

They hadn’t tried a full meditation yet, and Obi-Wan tried to lead Luke through the steps as slowly and clearly as possible. Luke was still much younger than Anakin was, back when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had found him.

Obi-Wan’s thoughts became distracted as he pictured Anakin the way he’d looked during that pod-race, how happy he’d been.

There were many times, over the years, when Anakin had looked that happy with him as well.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, opening his eyes to see Luke sprawled on his back in the sand, making a glorified sand angel.

“Luke,” Obi-Wan admonished, trying to sound harsh and failing.

“You fell ‘sleep,” Luke told him earnestly.

“I wasn’t _asleep_ , I was thinking,” Obi-Wan said. “Come here.”

He made a grab for Luke, who rolled away laughing.

“Catch me, Obi!” he yelled, hopping to his feet and taking off.

His legs were still quite tiny, so he didn’t get far before Obi-Wan caught him and scooped him up, causing Luke to squeal.

“We’re supposed to be doing a _lesson_ ,” Obi-Wan said firmly, plopping them both back onto the ground. Luke immediately jumped forward, tackling Obi-Wan back into the sand and cackling.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help it, he started chuckling as well; something that started in the pit of his stomach and worked its way up until he was full-out laughing. Luke joined in as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck.

Obi-Wan hadn’t laughed like this in a long time, he could feel it filling up some void he hadn’t realized existed until this instant.

Moments like these reminded Obi-Wan why he was here, what he was doing, why it all mattered. Anakin had left him something wonderful, something that hadn’t been touched by the dark.

The muscles in his face ached as he smiled; he tussled Luke’s hair and wanted the moment to last, wishing they could just stay like this for a while.

Luke propped himself up on Obi-Wan’s chest, rubbing his small hands in Obi-Wan’s beard and looking at him earnestly.

“No more med’tation?” he asked.

“It doesn’t appear we’re going to get any work done today,” Obi-Wan admitted, causing Luke to let out a _whoop_.

They tussled for a while, Obi-Wan making a mental note that he needed to get back into shape. His form was definitely slipping, if his shortness of breath was any indication.

Before too long, Luke informed Obi-Wan he was thirsty.

“Maybe we can go into town,” Obi-Wan suggested, but Luke shook his head.

“Also gotta potty,” he declared.

“Now?” Obi-Wan asked, and Luke nodded seriously.

This meant they would need to go inside. Inside, where Maul was sitting and would immediately be able to recognize this child as Force-sensitive even despite Obi-Wan’s shielding.

 _He probably won’t know who Luke is,_ Obi-Wan told himself, _even if he can tell he’s force sensitive._ Nothing too awful could happen.

Small fingers wrapped into his own and tugged him toward the house.

“Luke, I have someone staying with me right now,” Obi-Wan informed him. “It would be best if you didn’t tell him your last name.”

“Who is he?” Luke asked, eyes wide.

“Just an acquaintance of mine from—a while ago. He can be a bit grouchy.”

“Like you,” Luke assessed, and Obi-Wan scoffed.

“I’m not grouchy!” he half-whispered, pulling open the door to the house and stepping through. “Maul, we, ah, have a visitor today,” he said as they entered the main room.

Maul looked up at them from his position sitting on the floor and stared at Luke for a long moment before squinting at Obi-Wan and saying, “Tell me that isn’t yours.”

“What? No!” Obi-Wan spluttered. “No, he isn’t mine. I’m watching him for a friend. Luke, this is Maul.”

Luke had halfway hidden behind one of Obi-Wan’s legs, clearly a bit intimidated by Maul’s horns and stripes. He managed a small wave, which Maul returned (much to Obi-Wan’s surprise).

“Luke, why don’t you run to the bathroom and I’ll make us some lunch?” Obi-Wan suggested, lightly pushing Luke in the direction of the ‘fresher. He ran off, leaving Maul and Obi-Wan alone.

“Who is he?” Maul asked, setting down his tools and crossing his arms across his chest. He’d taken to wearing one of Obi-Wan’s old robes, which was _slightly_ too big for him and took the edge off his intimidating glare (not that Obi-Wan would ever tell him as much). 

“The son of a friend,” Obi-Wan said, heading toward the kitchen and avoiding eye contact.

“He’s a Force-user,” Maul said, and Obi-Wan nodded. “I haven’t felt him until now. You’ve been shielding him?”

“I have,” Obi-Wan admitted, putting together lunch for the three of them and rummaging as loudly as possible to dissuade Maul from any further questions. It seemed to work, for the time being.

Luke finished in the bathroom and returned to the living room, hopping up onto the couch and sitting on the edge farthest from Maul.

“Wha’happened to your legs?” he asked, pointing at Maul’s cybernetics curiously.

“I lost them in a fight,” Maul said, chancing a quick glance over at Obi-Wan. “A long time ago.”

“Oh,” Luke said, swinging his legs over the edge of the cushion. “How’d they break?”

“I fell,” Maul told him, spreading his hands across his thighs. “Rather hard. I’m trying to piece them back together.”

Clearly over his initial intimidation, Luke jumped to the floor and sat beside Maul, peering closely at his cybernetic leg.

Obi-Wan was keeping a close eye on them from the kitchen and grinned at how confused Maul looked about the whole situation. Clearly he wasn’t used to dealing with children.

“You can fix it?” Luke asked, peering up at Maul with an impressed expression.

“I believe so,” Maul told him. “I’ve had to before.”

“I can fix droids,” Luke bragged. “My uncle’s got lots.”

Maul watched Luke poke through his pile of neatly-arranged tools, apparently at a loss for what to say.

“I got an old R5,” Luke told him, careful to not disturb Maul’s organization. He reached over and ran a finger over the red and black pattern running up Maul’s forearm.

Obi-Wan watched as Maul carefully did not flinch away, though he clearly had to fight the instinct.

“Cool markin’s,” Luke said, and Maul blinked at him blankly. Obi-Wan swept into the room and set a tray down on the side table, distracting Luke from his current train of interest.

“Lunch time,” Obi-Wan announced, scooping up Luke from the floor and setting him on the couch. “Careful not to spill, dear one,” he said, handing Luke a glass and placing a plate on his lap.

He passed one to Maul, then took the last for himself and settled beside Luke in between him and Maul as a sort of buffer. Luke could be persistent, when it came to questions, and Obi-Wan had sprung this situation on an unprepared Maul.

“How d’you know Obi?” Luke asked Maul, who took a bite of food to avoid answering.

“Maul and I met on a job, a long time ago,” Obi-Wan said. He hadn’t told Luke about most of his past, as most of it revolved around the Jedi and Luke’s own father. Owen and Beru were very clear about what was and was not ok to tell Luke.

Luke ate a bite thoughtfully, asking through a mouthful of food, “Maul can use the Force?”

Obi-Wan almost choked on a swallow, clearing his throat and seeing Maul looking distinctly amused, something smug pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I can feel ‘im. Like you, Obi,” Luke explained.

“Ah, yes, well, Maul is also Force-sensitive. Like you and me,” Obi-Wan explained.

Luke grinned. “Awesome. Obi’s teach’n me how to use it,” he told Maul importantly. “Uncle Owen ‘n Aunt Beru didn’ know how.”

Luckily he didn’t continue, getting distracted by the metal object on Obi-Wan’s mantel.

“You kept it!” he exclaimed, pointing happily with his fork and turning to Obi-Wan with a big smile.

“Of course I did,” Obi-Wan said, feeling something tugging in his chest at how pleased Luke was.

“I made it for Obi,” Luke told Maul, clearly waiting for some response.

Obi-Wan crossed his legs, lightly kicking Maul with the side of his foot when he didn’t say anything.

“Oh. It’s… very good,” Maul managed.

Obi-Wan followed up with, “It’s just lovely, dear,” causing Luke to beam at both of them.

They finished eating, and Obi-Wan collected the dishes, leaving them in the sink to do later. Luke didn’t want to go back outside because it was so hot, and instead asked if they could read a book together.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said uncertainly. “Maul is working in here, I wouldn’t want us to bother him.”

Maul glanced at them, gaze lingering on Luke for a moment before returning to his work. “I don’t mind,” he said, and Luke used it as an excuse to crawl into Obi-Wan’s lap and get comfortable.

Several hours later, with Luke dead asleep in his lap and Maul sitting quietly beside them on the floor, Obi-Wan realized it was the most centered he’d felt since arriving on Tatooine.

That probably meant something, but Obi-Wan allowed himself to just _be_ and to enjoy the moment of peace for what it was.


	11. One Down, One to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul doesn't know what to think of Luke, but he _does_ manage to get one leg working.

Maul had many questions about the boy, Luke, which apparently were not going to be answered judging by Kenobi’s attempts to evade the subject. The child’s origin was not a topic Kenobi would freely discuss, and Maul wasn’t ready to start pushing too much.

He was curious, though.

The boy was powerful in the Force, and Kenobi was clearly acting as some sort of mentor for him. Not training him as a Jedi, but watching out for him—guiding him. Luke could easily be turned into a weapon if Kenobi chose to raise him as one.

Maul didn’t know what would become of all the Force sensitive children around the galaxy now that the Jedi were no longer recruiting. This one had lucked out, having a Jedi like Kenobi watching out for him.

And Kenobi _loved_ that boy. That much was obvious even through the shielding. Maul knew that what Kenobi felt was nothing the Jedi would ever have allowed. It was nothing Maul would ever have expected of a Jedi, really. Kenobi probably didn’t even realize how he softened when he was looking at Luke, the years melting off his face as a slight smile crinkled the very corners of his eyes.

Maul found himself watching Kenobi’s eyes, sometimes. They were annoyingly blue.

Luke also loved Kenobi in return, and he never even tried to hide it. He constantly held onto the Jedi’s hand or shirt, looking to him for assurance, approval. He trusted Kenobi completely and Kenobi never gave him any reason not to.

Luke hadn’t been afraid of Maul at all, seemingly completely comfortable sitting next to him and asking questions. Maul had never interacted with someone so small before, and really didn’t know what he was supposed to do. It was a disconcerting experience, but he found himself intrigued by the boy.

He wondered how someone as young as Luke could trust so easily. Then again, watching Kenobi interact with him, it wasn’t that much of a mystery. Kenobi was just so… kind. After hating this Jedi for so many years, Maul didn’t want to see it.

 _Kindness is a weakness,_ Maul reminded himself half-heartedly.

But he didn’t blame Kenobi nearly as much as he blamed Sidious, and he’d hurt Kenobi just as much as Kenobi had ever hurt him, and he felt something solidify in himself when he watched the Jedi taking care of this small boy so naturally.

Kenobi had read Luke a book, and Maul had halfway listened while he worked. Kenobi had a nice voice, something Maul felt himself relaxing into.

He finished his repairs in the one leg and began to test his work, flexing his foot and rotating it around successfully. It was a good feeling, having control over that leg again. Also knowing he could still trust his hands after everything was comforting.

The other leg still lay by the side of the couch, and Maul didn't want to think about how much effort would be required to get that one working again.

When it was time for Luke to leave, Kenobi whispered something and the boy approached him to hold out a hand seriously.

“Nice t’meet you, Maul,” he said.

Maul took his tiny hand and shook it. “And you, Luke.”

Once he was gone and Kenobi came back in, Maul cocked his head to survey Kenobi closely.

“So, that’s who you’re guarding,” Maul assessed, watching for a response from Kenobi and receiving nothing. “Why are you protecting him?”

“Because he doesn’t have anyone else to do it,” Kenobi said evasively, walking to the kitchen to clean the remaining dishes.

“Why _him_?” Maul asked. “Clearly he’s strong in the Force, but there has to be a reason you’re here, instead of with any of the other Force sensitive children in the galaxy.”

Kenobi looked pensive, wiping his hair back from his face with a somewhat soapy hand. “I assume the Sith also have tales of a Chosen One. Someone who will… bring balance to the Force.”

Maul nodded slowly.

“Well, for the longest time the Jedi thought the tales were referring to Anakin Skywalker. I thought so once, as did my old master,” Kenobi explained. “We were wrong.”

“And you think it could be this boy?” Maul surmised, feeling the frown pulling at his mouth. Luke had a strong Force presence, there was no denying it, but the _Chosen One_?

Kenobi sighed. “Yes, I do. And since the Jedi are gone, there’s no one left to help him.”

Maul thought about this for a moment, before saying, “This still doesn’t explain why you’re shielding him so heavily. Who else knows about him?”

“Not many others,” Kenobi said shortly, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Something felt off, as though a major piece was missing from the puzzle and Maul couldn’t quite put it together. “He’s someone important, isn’t he?” Maul asked, seeing the grimace appear despite Kenobi’s beard. “How did you find him?”

“If you don’t mind, I really can’t talk about it right now,” Kenobi said tiredly.

 _Can't, or don't want to?_ Maul thought, nodding shortly and hoisting himself onto the couch. He hadn’t expected much of an answer. “Can I use your arm for a moment?” he asked, and Kenobi walked over.

“You finished?” he asked, brows raised.

“We’ll know soon,” Maul muttered, grasping Kenobi’s arm and pulling himself to a standing position. It was unsteady, having only one foot on the floor, but he could _feel_ the floor under that foot again and that was incredibly relieving.

“How is it?” Kenobi asked as Maul used his arm to balance while he bent the knee and then went up on his toes.

“Functional,” Maul assessed. It would work just fine, once he had the other repaired and back on.

“Wonderful,” Kenobi told him, and sounded genuine. “Hang on, I have something that might help.”

Maul let go of his arm and dropped back to the couch, watching Kenobi disappear into the other room. He returned after a moment holding a crutch, the one-armed variety that was popular for people sporting a single lower-limb.

“I borrowed this from a friend of Owen a while ago when I sprained an ankle, and he told me to keep it,” Kenobi said, handing it over to Maul. “You should be able to get around fine on your own with it.”

Maul took it and reset the height for himself, using it to crutch several steps around the room. “It will suffice, until my other leg is repaired,” he told Kenobi.

After being immobile for the past few days, the feeling of getting around on his own, even just the few steps around the room, was quite freeing.

“I suppose it won’t be long before I’m out of your hair,” Maul said, and Kenobi merely shrugged.

“I suppose it won’t,” he agreed, waiting a moment before adding, “But there’s no need to rush, I really don’t mind the company.”

Maul didn’t know what to make of that comment, flicking his eyes between both of Kenobi’s (frustratingly) blue ones and finding them earnest.

Clearing his throat, Kenobi patted him on the shoulder. “Well I’m going to finish up these dishes and go to sleep. Luke is a handful, and I don’t usually watch him for that long.”

“I’m going for a walk,” Maul told him, crutching over to the door and heading outside.

It was evening, the quickly darkening sky turning from blue to purple as the twin suns dipped out of view. Maul let his one foot press into the sand, adjusting his grip on the crutch before limping forward.

He didn’t want to go far, but it was reassuring to know that he could get any distance without assistance. The evening was a nice temperature, and Maul was standing on his own after everything that had happened to him, and peering at the wide expanse of sand in the evening light Maul realized for the first time, really realized, that he’d made it out.

No one was coming for him, not here. He was no longer in Sidious’ grasp. He was stuck with Kenobi, but things could be (and had been) so much worse.

Taking a moment to center himself and watch the fading colors of the evening sky, Maul thought that maybe he could be alright.


	12. Truths, both accidental and intentional.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday to my readers!:)

Beru returned again the next week with Luke, and apparently Kenobi was incapable of saying no when it came to spending time with the boy.

Kenobi tried to get Luke to focus on mindfulness, but Luke was highly distracted by Maul, whose Force presence apparently “felt different”. Luke couldn’t describe _how_ , exactly, but he kept reaching out and poking at Maul through the Force, and it was extremely distracting for all parties involved.

Kenobi realized at some point that Luke had never encountered another Force presence beside his own, and suddenly the whole thing seemed like a good idea to him.

The fact that Maul was a former Sith didn’t seem to change his mind.

Maul knew he wasn’t fully dark anymore, trapped somewhere in the vast grey, but he still doubted whether it was safe for Luke to be in contact with him.

“It could be beneficial for him to have more than one adult around who can use the Force. It will help him understand that the Force moves differently in everyone,” Kenobi said, as Maul tried to fend off the tiny, uncoordinated prods coming from one tousle-headed boy laying across his good leg.

Luke clearly had no concept of personal space, either physical or mental.

It was late in the afternoon when the boy climbed onto the back of the couch and declared himself “Luke Skywalker, king of the couch” that Maul finally realized who he was.

_Skywalker?_

He could feel his eyes widen as his head snapped over to Kenobi, who had all but frozen in place.

 _Vader had a child_? Maul thought, mind going a hundred miles a minute. It made sense, now that he knew. The boy had a faint air of Skywalker about him, imperceptible until it had been pointed out to him.

Maul had encountered Vader once or twice over the years, which was enough to get a read on him. Vader didn’t exactly have a subtle presence.

Luke was far lighter than his father; he practically radiated the light side of the Force, but his presence was equally as overwhelming as Vader’s had been.

Coupled with _which_ Jedi was watching over Luke and the boy’s reference to living with his aunt and uncle, Maul thought he should have been able to guess the answer sooner. He really didn’t know what to make of the situation, though.

How was it that Vader had a child? Obviously he did not know his son’s identity or location, or he would have come to collect him by now. Vader hated Kenobi, and Maul assumed Kenobi hated him as well, so he had no idea why or how Kenobi had managed to hide the boy, and for how long he hoped to continue.

Kenobi shook his head slightly, looking aghast, and Maul kept his mouth shut. For now.

Luke, for his part, had no idea he’d made a mistake, and continued to play on the couch. When he left with Beru later, Maul followed Kenobi outside into the sand.

“That’s Vader’s boy,” Maul stated, and Kenobi sighed, shoulders dropping.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You’re protecting _Vader’s child_.” Maul couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

“He doesn’t have anyone else,” Kenobi said, repeating his earlier argument and clasping his hands behind his back as he stared out over the desert.

“So you stole him and hid him away? Does Vader know you have him?”

Kenobi shook his head. “Vader doesn’t know he exists.”

Maul rubbed around his horns, trying to work out how that was possible and why Kenobi would have done such a thing. “You gave up your life to come here and protect your enemy’s son?”

Kenobi passed a hand tiredly over his face. “None of this is Luke’s fault. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“You haven’t told him anything?” Maul asked.

“He thinks his father is dead. I told his aunt and uncle as much. They don’t want Luke to know about Anakin’s life, and I can’t say I blame them.”

Maul felt the familiar curl of anger tugging at him, as much as he tried to tamp it down.

“Wasn’t one Skywalker enough for you?” Maul asked sharply. “Look what happened the first time! What makes you think this one will turn out any differently?”

He almost regretted those words at the look on Kenobi’s face—like he’d been slapped, or shouted at—but Maul needed to know.

“He isn’t his father,” Kenobi whispered, shrinking somewhat.

Maul’s huffed, lip curling into a sneer. “How long do you think you can hide him here before the Empire finds him?” he asked, one hand splayed in frustration.

“I don’t know. As long as I can.” The Jedi’s arms were wrapped around himself protectively, but his answer was determined. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

_Of course you will._

Maul shook his head. “What do you think you owe Vader? What happened?”

Kenobi hesitated. “I can’t—”

“Can’t tell me. Right,” Maul finished, pulling a face. He turned away, realizing he needed time to think. Without a word, he headed away from Kenobi and kept going until his hand burned around the handle of the crutch.

He didn’t know why he felt angry. Luke hadn’t done anything wrong, besides being the son of Sidious’ new _pet_ , and Kenobi was doing what he could to keep an important tool out of the hands of the Empire.

If Vader knew about Luke, he would come to get him, and then the boy would be in the clutches of Sidious. Another Force-sensitive child raised and warped by that monster. Maul ground the crutch into the sand too hard, nose wrinkling in anger.

_No. Not again._

No one else would go through what he had.

He could see in his mind’s eye Luke sitting next to him, looking up at him with curious eyes and smiling widely at him. Tiny phantom fingers poked at him hopefully in the Force, and Maul wondered for a moment if he’d ever looked that way, when he’d been young.

He tried to imagine hurting Luke the way Sidious had hurt him at that age, and the thought made his stomach clench, something bitter welling up under his tongue.

No.

Chosen One or not, Luke couldn’t be turned over to Vader and Sidious.

Kenobi was doing his best to protect him and Maul thought he understood why, even despite who Luke's father was.

The anger was all but gone, and Maul rubbed a hand over his horns again. At least he knew, now, who Luke really was. One less mystery to puzzle over.

 

As he crutched back to the house, Maul felt a spike of something dark through the Force, stabbing outward from where Kenobi was.

He heard a glass break as he opened the door, and Maul turned the corner to see Kenobi backing up in the kitchen, hitting the wall with a hand pressed over his chest.

“Kenobi, what is it?” Maul asked in confusion, receiving no response.

The Jedi’s face was pale, almost grey, and he made no indication of hearing Maul, or even being aware of his presence. Instead he sank down to the floor, one hand still pressed firmly against his chest and the other falling useless by his side, dripping blood where the glass had cut into his palm.

The dark flare of energy retreated quickly, and it didn’t feel like it was Kenobi’s Force signature—something foreign and angry that Maul vaguely thought felt like Vader.

One thing was clear, though: Kenobi was not ok.

He raised his non-bloody hand to his head, fingers and thumb digging into his temples on either side as he closed his eyes.

“Kenobi?” Maul tried again, crutching his way closer to lean on the counter.

He still received no response, and Maul faltered, wondering if he should leave and let the Jedi have a moment of privacy.

Instead he found himself rummaging in the living room to find the med-kit and then sinking down against the adjacent wall beside Kenobi, keeping a small distance between them.

He waited, and eventually Kenobi removed his hand and tipped his head back against the wall with a small _thump._

Maul didn’t know what to say, so he sat in silence, eyeing the man beside him.

“Sorry,” Kenobi finally said, clearly trying to force his voice into a semi-normal affect. “Sometimes…”

He swallowed, looking as tired as Maul had ever seen him.

“I get… glimpses,” he finished.

“Vader,” Maul prompted, and Kenobi nodded, affirming his hunch. “How?”

Kenobi made a face. “I don’t know. He was—Anakin was—my padawan. Before.”

Maul knew this. It still wouldn’t explain anything, unless they still shared a Force bond.

Kenobi seemed to follow his train of thought and continued, “I severed the bond, when… after…”

He waved a hand vaguely, looking heartsick.

“Tell me,” Maul offered softly and to his surprise Kenobi did this time.

He slowly talked through it all: his padawan’s secret affair, Palpatine’s influence, the war, the train of lies, a strangled pregnant wife, and the eventual battle on Mustafar.

Kenobi left out a lot of the details, but Maul filled in the gaps where he could and thought he had a pretty clear picture of what happened.

He passed over the med-kit as Kenobi talked, watching the Jedi methodically wrap his injured hand as he spoke. Maul didn’t know why Kenobi had chosen to tell him; perhaps because it was too much to handle alone.

Perhaps because there was no one else to tell.

“I left him,” Kenobi said, and his eyes were dry even though his voice spoke of a sorrow so deep Maul could feel it in his own bones. “I swung, and I left him there like that to become Vader.”

Maul counted the drops of blood on the floor, eyes tracing the red stain and wondering how much blood each of them had shed in their lifetimes.

Kenobi still loved Anakin—loved him as much as he hated Vader. Every word out of his mouth dripped with guilt (an unbelievable amount), and Maul ticked one more mark on the list of reasons why Kenobi was watching over Luke.

“You saved yourself,” Maul told him, “and Vader’s child.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t stop him.” He rubbed at his face tiredly, pushing into his temples again where Maul could practically _see_ the headache forming. “I just don’t know how he could do all the things he’s done. Kill so many people, needlessly.”

“People change,” Maul shrugged, and Kenobi shot him a quick, unreadable look.

“Yes. But I raised him. I turned him into—whatever it is he became.”

Maul disagreed, his mouth pulling down into a frown around the edges. He knew what betrayal felt like, and he’d read between the lines of guilt pouring from Kenobi and understood what had really happened. Skywalker had betrayed Kenobi, just as Sidious had betrayed Maul. Corruption, lies, betrayal—Kenobi only partly saw the truth through all of his self-condemnation.

“We don’t always become what our masters want us to be,” Maul said. “Sometimes that’s for the better, sometimes for the worse.” He thought of himself, and what Sidious had trained him into, and how very far away from that goal he’d ended up. “Circumstances alter us. After a point, we decide who we’re going to be.”

Kenobi looked at him searchingly before dropping his gaze to his lap, surveying the wrapped hand.

“Well,” Kenobi said after a moment, “I’m quite exhausted. Thank you for…” he grasped for words and gave up, shaking his head slightly.

A younger version of himself would have tried to use this new information against Kenobi, find some way to exploit or ruin him with what he’d shared. Instead, Maul simply found himself pleased that Kenobi had chosen to tell him his story.

Trust was a funny thing. It never came easily to Maul, that giving and taking with another person. But he’d had to trust Kenobi with his life, and Kenobi had just trusted Maul with his own (in a way), and he felt as though they were on more even ground than before.

Maul stood and held out his free hand to Kenobi, who stared at it for a moment before grasping it and pulling himself up.

“Thank you,” Kenobi repeated, and, for some odd reason, Maul almost felt like saying it back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you Tumblr folks are interested, I just started a blog for this story:  
> obimaulwritings.tumblr.com  
> I'll be posting chapter updates there, as well as some un-posted excerpts and doodles!


	13. Maybe not alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon both helps and doesn't.

When Maul had found out about Luke, Obi-Wan really didn’t know how he was going to react. The whole thing had gone over much more smoothly than he’d predicted, and Maul once again managed to surprise him, both in his reaction and in offering an ear (and a hand).

The next time Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon, he consulted him about letting Maul help with Luke. Obi-Wan personally thought it was good for both of them, but he also didn’t want to put Luke in any unnecessary danger.

Qui-Gon seemed to think the whole thing was amusing.

“It’s too late to hide Luke from him now,” Qui-Gon pointed out.

“I know, but I could always tell Beru not to bring Luke around,” Obi-Wan mused, thinking that he would rather do anything but that.

“For how long?” Qui-Gon asked him. “Maul isn’t going anywhere soon.”

“No, he’s not,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I just worry.”

Qui-Gon actually chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Obi-Wan, you worry more than anyone I’ve ever known. The Force led Maul here, perhaps he’s supposed to help Luke somehow.”

“You think so?” Obi-Wan asked, running a hand over his beard contemplatively.

“I think you should use your feelings. Trust yourself, and trust the Force. Do you think Maul means any harm to Luke?”

Obi-Wan thought about it, but no, he didn’t think Maul posed a threat to Luke. Maul didn’t like Vader, that much was apparent, but if anything he seemed intrigued by Luke, not hostile.

“I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “He knows it would be dangerous to let the Empire find Anakin’s son.”

“Well then,” Qui-Gon said, smiling. “I’d try not to worry too much, unless anything changes. It may come in useful to have Maul as an ally.”

_Allies with Maul?_ The though made Obi-Wan shake his head at the absurdity. What had the galaxy come to?

“He didn’t seem to think it was my fault,” Obi-Wan mused. “What happened with Anakin.”

Maul hadn’t judged him for any of it, just sat and listened intently while Obi-Wan poured his heart out. He hadn’t planned to tell Maul, but he’d been upset after feeling Anakin’s rage and it felt so _relieving_ to get everything off his chest.

Maul had made an… interesting argument as to why Anakin’s fall hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s fault. Obi-Wan didn’t believe it, necessarily; he still felt the situation was due to his own mistakes. But it was food for thought, at least.

“He was quite correct,” Qui-Gon sniffed. “Perhaps he’ll be able to knock some sense into you.”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to make a snarky comment, settling for an exasperated huff.

“I’m glad you gave him a chance,” Qui-Gon told him. “Any lesser man wouldn’t have done so.”

Feeling his ears turning slightly pink at the compliment, Obi-Wan inquired, “Do you plan on showing yourself to him at any point?”

“Not yet,” Qui-Gon said. “There are other tangles you’ll need to straighten out before then.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan frowned, but Qui-Gon vanished and left him alone with his thoughts. _Tangles?_ Why did his old master always have to be so unclear?

At least he seemed to agree that letting Maul around Luke wasn’t a terrible idea, but per usual there was plenty that Qui-Gon had left for him to figure out alone.

_Maybe not alone,_ Obi-Wan thought, running a hand over his beard.

Just maybe.  


	14. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul has nightmares about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (an excuse to write some hurt/comfort)

It was one month into his stay at Kenobi’s, the first time.

The dreams were getting worse. He’d always gotten nightmares, ever since he was a child, but the past few years had comprised one giant waking horror show that rivaled anything his brain could cook up. Perhaps it was only now, in the quiet of Tatooine, that he could start to process everything that had happened. 

Maul was semi-aware that he was asleep, but that realization alone did not make the dreams any less vivid. He was always himself, when he slept, living the dream instead of watching it, one reality blurring into another before he could fully catch up.  
  


_He was small, and wondered why his master needed to hurt him. He could learn, he tried to learn, but the result was always the same. He screamed on the ground, starting to cry before he found out that crying would be punished just as badly as any mistake._

_He was older, was dueling Sidious and lost, and the pain was there again, lighting him up from the inside and curling through his mind. Everything was on fire, his body would surely cease under the onslaught._

_A lightsaber was passing straight through his legs. The burning was unbelievable, a pain he couldn’t understand, something that sent him nearly into shock as he fell and fell and fell…_

_And the bond, his bond with his master that was always there, always a constant, was being ripped apart, shredded as he lay on the ground screaming again, surrounded by garbage and fear and emptiness._

_Then Savage was with him, just out of reach, looking at him, and Maul_ knew _what was going to happen, couldn’t get there in time. His legs and arms felt leaden as he struggled forward, crying out in rage as Sidious’ lightsaber went straight through his brother’s chest and there was nothing he could do, and Savage… Savage…_  
  


Maul gasped awake at a hand on his shoulder, sitting up with hearts racing and raising an arm in defense until he could focus. He wasn’t dreaming anymore; he was sitting on a couch, and no one was attacking.

The hand on his arm retreated and he could feel Kenobi just beside him, crouched on the floor by the side of the sofa.

Maul couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to know if he’d called out or lowered his shields and had let Kenobi see the mess inside his mind.

His brother…

Maul pushed off the couch and grabbed his crutch to limp past Kenobi, stopping in the middle of the room to catch his breath. He couldn’t stop the constricting feeling in his throat.

None of the past mattered, there was nothing he could do to change it. Everything that had happened to him had been because of Sidious.

But if he’d been faster, then perhaps Savage would still be standing.

Maul had lost the only family he’d ever known, and he hadn’t let himself mourn. He hadn’t had the time or energy in the midst of being tortured and drugged out of his mind; but here, now, he felt the weight of it clawing up from his stomach and spine and lodging in the base of his skull, in the back of his throat.

Clenching his free hand, Maul tried to stop his body from curling in on itself like he wanted to.

_Weak,_ he reminded himself. Crying was weak; a disgusting show to be punished. He couldn’t even remember the last time it had happened, back when he was still a child and before Sidious had broken him of it.

He could feel his eyes burning, nonetheless. Maul’s other hand was fisted around his crutch, gripping the handle so hard his whole arm shook as he fought for breath.

He could see Savage looking at him, eyes wide the moment before he fell backwards—

And then a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Not in a fighting way, but something distinctly soft and careful.

Maul could feel Kenobi press up against him, arms slipping under his own and pulling them together so that Kenobi’s chin was digging into his shoulder, chest pressed up against the length of his spine.

No one had ever hugged him, not like this. That hurt in its own way, and while part of him wanted to shy away, and the other part was immensely grateful for the contact. He unclenched his fingers and circled one of Kenobi’s arms, gripping it tightly.

He didn’t know how long they stood together like that before Kenobi murmured, “Come to bed.”

Maul half-turned his head in confusion, careful not to hit Kenobi with his horns.

“It helps with nightmares,” Kenobi followed up. “Sleeping next to someone.”

There was a protest on the tip of his tongue, but before he knew it Kenobi had one of his hands behind Maul’s back and was guiding him into the bedroom, settling him onto the mattress and slipping in behind him.

One of Kenobi’s arms returned to its position around him, pulling them together on the small bed. Maul could feel Kenobi’s forehead resting against the back of his shoulder, one hand spread over the center of his chest where Kenobi could no doubt feel the rapid rhythm of Maul’s hearts.

The extent of the physical contact was strange, as was the lack of urge to push away. Maul didn’t know quite how he felt about the situation, but it was nothing bad.

He pressed his own hand flat over Kenobi’s, wondering if he could push the other man’s straight through his chest and ribs to where he ached the most.

It was like that, wound together in the darkness, that he shared Kenobi’s bed for the first time.

When the early light of morning crept through the window, Maul woke and extracted himself from the sleeping Jedi, creeping out of the room and determinedly not looking back.

True enough, there had been no more nightmares.

When Kenobi got up later, he informed Maul that he could use the bed any time he liked.

“I imagine it’s a bit more comfortable than the couch,” Kenobi joked, blue eyes twinkling annoyingly.

“I’m fine,” Maul told him; he at least had _some_ pride left to protect.

“Alright,” Kenobi said, “well if you ever change your mind, it’s an open offer.”

Maul didn’t take him up on it, not then, but he stored that piece of knowledge away for later. He could have sworn he heard Kenobi humming something later that day, but couldn’t be sure.


	15. Babysitting (round 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beru comes over with Luke while Obi-Wan is out.

Obi-Wan still went to the Lars’ every week for Luke’s lessons, but it became more frequent that Beru would come and drop Luke off at Kenobi's house for the day. Apparently it was easier for them to get work done without the little terror hanging off Owen every minute.

Maul hadn’t met either Beru or Owen, as Kenobi always met them at the door or outside. They knew about him, or at least knew someone was staying with Kenobi, but Maul doubted Kenobi had told them much about him and neither had seen him in person yet.

That changed one morning when Kenobi was out, having gone to shop in town, and there came a knock on the door. Maul could feel Luke’s presence just outside, and recognized Beru’s voice when she called, “Obi-Wan, are you home?”

He thought about ignoring them for a moment before clambering to his feet and crutching his way to the door. No doubt Luke could feel him and would know he was home.

When he opened the door, Beru blinked at him in surprise, eyebrows pulling high on her forehead.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Um, hello. I’m Beru Lars.”

“Hey Maul!” Luke exclaimed from knee-height, waving excitedly.

“Hello,” Maul replied to both of them. “Beru, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Beru took in his appearance, eyes running from head to foot in a critical (but not unkind) way. “So you’re Obi-Wan’s friend? He told me someone was staying with him.”

_Friend?_ Maul’s brain caught on that title briefly, wondering if this was how Obi-Wan was describing him to people.

“Yes," he agreed. "I'm Maul. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your nephew already.”

Luke took this as his cue to cut in. “I brought some stuff so I could help with your leg!” he said, holding out a small toolkit and looking proud of himself.

Maul tried not to feel too pleased at Luke wanting to work with him, even if he was certain the boy would do nothing but cause trouble like he did for Kenobi. 

“Is Obi-Wan home?” Beru asked, keeping a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“No, he went into town,” Maul said, resting against the doorframe. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Oh. Can I speak with you for a moment?” she asked, and Maul nodded. “Luke, run inside.” She prodded Luke forward and gestured for Maul to follow her.

He closed the door behind Luke, walking after her and remaining several paces away.

“Luke told us you’re a Force user,” she said bluntly, hands on her hips as she surveyed him.

Maul shifted slightly on his crutch, having a good idea of where the conversation was heading. “I am.”

“Were you a Jedi? Like Obi-Wan?”

Maul shook his head with a small frown. “I was never a Jedi.”

“What were you, then?” she asked. “How do you know Obi-Wan?”

Maul thought about his answer carefully. “I was an enemy of the Emperor, like the Jedi. But I was never one of them. Kenobi—Obi-Wan and I fought together.”

“In the war?” she prompted. “I know he was a General. Is that how you lost your legs?”

It wasn’t the truth, but he needed to tell her something, and she’d reached this conclusion on her own. “I lost many things to the Emperor,” Maul said flatly. “Obi-Wan is… helping me.”

“For how long?”

“Until I get my legs back under me,” he said, not sure when that would be, or if there was an expiration date to his stay.

Beru nodded. “Did he tell you about Luke’s father?”

Maul shook his head. “I figured it out. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

He emphasized this slightly with a twitch of one finger, not forcing Beru to believe him but certainly suggesting that he was speaking the truth (which he was).

“Don’t tell Luke, either,” she said. “The less he knows, the better.”

Maul agreed, which seemed to ease some of Beru’s concern.

“Would you mind watching him until Obi-Wan gets back?” she asked, and Maul hadn’t expected this. “Luke talks about you all the time.”

_Does he?_ Maul wondered, agreeing to watch Luke before he really knew what he was doing.

Luke was perfectly happy sitting on the floor with him and being taught about how the cybernetics functioned. Maul wasn’t sure Luke really understood everything he was saying, but the boy was very smart and determined to help out.

It wasn’t the worst way to spend a morning.  


* * *  


When Obi-Wan returned several hours later, he found Maul sitting with his work goggles on, explaining to Luke what allowed the ankle joint to rotate a foot in each direction. Luke was perched on Maul’s shoulders, hands wrapped around two of his horns and listening intently. 

They both looked up when Obi-Wan entered, and a warm, pleased feeling hit him through the Force, radiating from both Maul and Luke.

Obi-Wan couldn’t remember feeling happier.

 

* * *

 

 


	16. Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is made on multiple fronts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, you guys have been awesome with the comments and nice messages! It’s making writing this thing a whole lot more fun than it already was, so thank you!!

Obi-Wan was there when Maul reattached the second leg, and was also there when it didn’t work.

It could support his weight but wouldn’t respond to him the way it was supposed to. Trying to walk on it looked uncomfortable, and it made his movements uncoordinated and jerky.

Maul didn’t say anything, but his frustration was evident. He kept rubbing his horns irritably and finally gave up, taking the leg off and letting it drop to the floor.

Obi-Wan couldn’t get him to talk for the rest of the afternoon and he eventually stopped trying, leaving Maul to his brooding and making a cup of tea to place beside him.

Maul didn’t touch the leg for the rest of the day, but the next morning he was already at it again, pulling everything apart and digging back in. He still wasn’t particularly talkative, but Obi-Wan found a cup of tea waiting for him on the counter with a small note scribbled “Thank you”.

Hiding his smile, Obi-Wan tucked the note into his pocket and let Maul work.  
  


* * *  
  


It was almost a month later when Maul tried again, this time with slightly more success. He wavered on his feet, settling into the feeling and testing his range of motion. The cybernetics responded and moved the way he wanted, even if the design was extremely basic.

He left the crutch by the side of the couch and paced around the room, slowly getting used to the repaired leg.

“This calls for celebration,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “I’ll make dinner.”

Maul went outside to walk, and after an hour Obi-Wan went outside to let him know the food was ready.

He was met with the sight of Maul running through his combat positions, using a long stick in place of a lightsaber. Obi-Wan recognized Juyo immediately, Maul making the forms look easy as he glided through them even despite the limitations of his legs. His balance was clearly offset, but he was doing shockingly well.

He’d taken off his tunic and Obi-Wan could see the muscles of his arms and chest straining in the heat. It had undoubtedly been a long time since Maul had been able to practice, and Obi-Wan found himself settling against the side of the house to watch.

He remembered what Maul looked like back when they’d fought on Naboo, and he was a far cry from that now. True enough, he wasn’t in the midst of a battle, but Maul’s movements were slower, sure and heavy. He was extremely precise, but the years had taken a toll and he was out of practice.

It was still beautiful to watch.

Maul cut quite a figure on the wide expanse of sand, his red and black standing out remarkably as he moved.

He was still thin, unbearably so, but nothing like when he’d arrived. Obi-Wan could count his vertebrae (not that he’d been trying) and every line of muscle was distinctly visible.

If Maul knew he was being watched, he apparently didn’t care. He continued the forms until the new leg finally faltered, and used that as a reason to stop. Looking over to Obi-Wan, he cocked his head for a moment before gathering his shirt and striding back to the house on his own two feet.

“Impressive,” Obi-Wan said, and Maul flashed his teeth.

“Hardly,” he replied, digging the stick into the sand and pushing through the door.

“As of this morning you still needed a crutch to walk,” Obi-Wan reminded him, but he got the feeling Maul was rather pleased about it himself. “Now look at you.”

Maul opted not to put the shirt back on—it was rather hot, after all—and Obi-Wan tried to ignore the patterns running down his chest.

“I always thought you had a very unique way of fighting,” Obi-Wan told him, dishing plates for both of them and setting them on the table. “As though you really enjoyed the motions for what they were.”

“I did,” Maul said, slipping in on the other side of the table. “I was good at fighting. It felt natural.”

Obi-Wan nodded, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from one of the cabinets and pouring them each a glass. He couldn’t remember how long it had been there; Obi-Wan rarely drank, as there was rarely anything to celebrate, and he wanted to avoid any unfortunate habits.

He passed one to Maul, who quirked an eyebrow before picking it up.

“Cheers,” Obi-Wan said, clinking their glasses together and knocking his back.

Maul sipped his own, nose wrinkling a bit at the burn but not in distaste.

“The legs aren’t finished yet,” Maul told him, swirling the whiskey in his glass and watching the small vortex appear in the center.

“Then we’ll celebrate again when they are,” Obi-Wan smiled.

Maul shot him an inquisitive look but didn’t say anything, taking another sip and starting in on his food.

“Did you used to build things often?” Obi-Wan asked. “You have quite an eye for mechanical work.”

Maul gave a half shrug. “Sometimes. My master wasn’t one to encourage hobbies.” He stared thoughtfully at his fork. “I believe that’s why I always enjoyed fighting. It was one of the… few things I could do right.”

There were implications behind his tone that Obi-Wan really didn’t want to know about. He decided not to ask what would happen when Maul couldn't do something "right."

Trying to lighten the mood, he said, “I could hardly do anything correctly, according to Qui-Gon. It wasn’t until I was older that the Order told me I have a way with people.”

“The _Negotiator_ ,” Maul mocked. Obi-Wan looked up in surprise and Maul rolled his eyes. “Even the scum in the outer rim knew about you.”

“I suppose,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I never had many dealings out there, except with some pirates.”

“Tell me it wasn’t the Ohnaka Gang,” Maul demanded, and Obi-Wan grinned.

“Hondo and I go way back. We had so many run-ins through the war that I got to know him rather well. Rumor has it he was quite in love with me—”

He cut off as Maul snorted into his glass, the closest to a laugh Obi-Wan had heard.

“That’s _not funny_ , Kenobi,” he growled, though Obi-Wan could sense the humor even through his tone.

“I’m serious!” Obi-Wan insisted. “This one time…”

He set off on a story about when he and Anakin had been unwittingly drugged by the pirate’s band.

Obi-Wan liked talking to Maul. He’d quickly learned that Maul would mock him for just about anything (but was rarely serious about it) and the back-and-forth between them was becoming comfortable.

After a few more drinks, the dishes were left on the table and they sat sprawled in the living room, Obi-wan on the chair and Maul lying on his back on the floor.

“What happened, after our fight?” Obi-Wan asked, counting the bands of black that ran down Maul’s forearm. He wasn’t sure if Maul would tell him about it, but the whiskey certainly wouldn’t hurt his chances. The topic seemed less dangerous to bring up several drinks in. “Did Darth Sidious come and find you?”

Maul stared at the ceiling, gold eyes switching from somewhat soft to hard and cold. “No.”

Obi-Wan felt surprised. He’d assumed that had been how Maul lived: Sidious came to get him after he fell, and then later they had a falling out of some sort. “No?” he repeated. “Then how…?”

“…did I survive?” Maul finished for him. “I nearly didn’t.”

Maul pushed himself up against the side of the couch and drew his knees in, folding his arms across them to stare at Obi-Wan.

“After you pushed me down that reactor shaft, I ended up on Lotho Minor.”

“The garbage planet?” Obi-Wan frowned, trying to remember through the slight haze of alcohol, and Maul nodded once.

“I thought Sidious would come. He was my master, I assumed he would help me.” Maul went quiet, clenching his jaw and looking as though he had to force himself to continue. “Instead, he severed our bond and left me to rot.”

“He knew you were alive and he left you?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

Maul’s eyes burned gold; they didn’t glow, per say, but it was about close as Obi-Wan had seen.

“I failed. I thought I meant something, or had some greater purpose, but I was wrong.”

Obi-Wan could see in Maul’s face how deep his loathing for Sidious ran, could hear it eating away at his words like acid.

“I hated you, afterward,” Maul told him, teeth showing as his lips pulled back. “I blamed you. Convinced myself it was your fault.” He paused, rolling his tensed shoulders, “But I never would have seen what Sidious was, otherwise.”

“You were so young,” Obi-Wan thought aloud. He’d been twenty-five at the time of their fight and knew Maul was several years younger than himself, placing him somewhere in his early twenties at the time. He'd never really considered that before.

Obi-Wan could still feel that blow, the slice of his lightsaber through Maul’s legs.

It had been the first time he’d done something like that, the first time he’d been desperate enough to try. He didn’t regret it at the time, and still didn’t regret ending the fight, but he could have finished things differently. He _would_ have, if he’d known Maul was going to live through it. Obi-Wan couldn't imagine what the recovery would have been like, particularly alone.

“I was old enough,” Maul growled. “If I hadn’t lost that fight, I would have lost one later and he still would have cast me aside. I was never a _Chosen One,_ merely a placeholder.” His tone was bitter and resigned. “After that, I understood what he was. What _I_ was. It took losing my legs and everything going to shit before I was free to make a life of my own. And then he took that away from me as well.”

“How do you mean?” Obi-Wan pressed, and Maul sighed, the fire leaving his eyes as quickly as it had arrived.

“My brother found me on Lotho Minor, after several years. I was nearly dead, half-mad, but he came anyway. Savage.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t known that Maul had a family. It somehow had never crossed his mind as a possibility, and he mentally slapped himself for being so naïve. His brother was probably the other Zabrak Obi-Wan had seen in some holo-footage.

Maul closed his eyes when he told the rest.

“He tried to help me fight Sidious, later. He wasn’t ready. Sidious killed him before taking me prisoner.”

Not knowing what to say, Obi-Wan managed a quiet “Oh.”

He wondered if some people were simply destined to lose everything, and furthermore if those were the people who remained standing. Somehow he and Maul were both still alive, even after all the odds pointed in the other direction and everything had been taken from each of them.

There were different types of strengths that kept people going, and looking across at his Zabrak counterpart, Obi-Wan appreciated how much determination it would have taken for him to keep pushing forward.

That was Maul’s _thing_ , Obi-Wan came to realize—he just never quit. Obi-Wan was unsure if that was because Maul didn’t want to, or if it was simply the way he was wired. His perseverance was an admirable trait, really, even if it never should have been this necessary.

But it had kept him alive.

The same age lines Obi-Wan himself bore were mirrored on Maul, coupled with more scars than Obi-Wan wanted to count, and Obi-Wan felt something connect between them in the midst of the grief.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan told him, and he didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for: cutting off Maul’s legs, his brother dying, Sidious being so awful; possibly everything. The alcohol was making him less articulate than usual, and he hoped he conveyed it all in his tone.

He thought he had when Maul nodded at him wearily.

“I am too, Kenobi.”


	17. The Second Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (angst angst angst)

Four months into living with Kenobi, Maul had firmly maintained his position of sleeping on the couch. It was decidedly more comfortable than any bed he’d had in the past, and he didn’t mind waking with the first rays of light that poured through into the room. 

After the second leg had been reattached, he’d started the routine of walking in the morning. There was something about being out in the empty sand before the rest of the world was awake that felt distinctly calming.

The leg wasn’t great yet, not by any means. He still had a long way to go with the repairs, slowly turning it into something he didn’t mind having on his body. It was functional enough to make walking and basic fighting possible, but he wanted better than that. With the tools and time at his disposal, Maul was able to enhance the design of his cybernetics, improving them steadily as he repaired and altered them.

Here at Kenobi's, he had the time to really put his mechanical thinking to work. It had been a long while since he’d been able to do a project like this without the threat of death or press of time, and Maul found himself enjoying the process.

He enjoyed it even more when Kenobi joined him as he worked, folding himself into the chair and chatting on about something (or nothing). Kenobi liked to talk, and Maul didn’t mind listening, so it all worked out rather well.

There were times Maul didn’t quite know what to say, but his dry commentary on Kenobi’s stories and opinions seemed to be appreciated. He found himself looking for the glint of Kenobi’s teeth as his face pulled into a smile that was becoming a bit more common.

Once he’d caused Kenobi to laugh so hard that Maul felt himself grinning as well. He didn’t know why it made him feel as pleased as it did, that laugh. It was something new, one more stone bridging the gap between them and something Maul stored away in a corner of his mind as “good”.

Little things about the Jedi caught Maul’s attention. His hair always seemed to fall into his face despite his attempts to push it back. He hummed to himself when he thought Maul wasn’t listening. He had a startlingly large collection of tea, something that Maul was coming to appreciate himself. When he was at home, he preferred to be barefoot.

The more Maul found out about Kenobi, the more intrigued he became.

He’d finished the few repairs around the house that Kenobi asked him to look into, but there was no pressure to leave. He’d mentioned it a second time, but Kenobi had assured him once more that he really didn’t mind the company.

Maul found that he didn’t mind it either, so he chose not to bring it up again.

Kenobi also pointed out that Luke was growing rather fond of Maul, and _that_ was enough to get Maul thinking.

Luke had to be the Chosen One. Kenobi certainly thought so, and Maul had started wondering about that possibility more and more often. It was difficult to tell, since Luke was still so young, but his Force presence was enormously powerful. Everyone had thought Anakin was the one the prophecy spoke of, but it could make sense that it was the _next_ generation of Skywalker who would bear the title.

Maul’s curiosity about Luke had steadily grown, and he wanted to know how the boy’s story would turn out. He didn’t dare let himself hope that he could be a part of that story somehow.

Lying on the couch in the middle of the night, Maul thoughts drifted over Luke, and prophecies, and balance. The latter was difficult to find anywhere, but he thought he remembered a time when the Force, at least, had it.

The Jedi were all but gone, two Sith ruled the Empire, Inquisitors roamed the galaxy, and he didn’t know where Luke fit into it all.

Maul didn’t know where _he_ fit into it either, and he stared up at the ceiling as though it held the answers.

From the other room where Kenobi slept, the Force spiked out suddenly in a dark tumultuous wave that Maul instantly recognized from that first instance in the kitchen.

It had happened again once or twice, but this time was particularly strong. Vader was no doubt on some killing spree, pushing himself further and further.

Kenobi wouldn’t be asleep after this, not if Maul could feel Vader’s anger this clearly all the way in the next room. 

The darkness subsided after a moment and was replaced with something wrenchingly sad rippling outward in the Force; something devastated and aching and so _clearly_ Kenobi.

After a few minutes went by and the feeling hadn't subsided, Maul pushed himself to his feet, walking silently to Kenobi’s room and palming the door open.

Kenobi was not on the bed but kneeling on the ground, curled over himself with his head buried in his hands. Like Maul, he was only wearing sleep-pants, and even in the darkness Maul could see him shaking, crying silently into his hands.

It was not how a Jedi would ever let himself be caught.

 _But he’s not one_ , Maul thought, _not anymore_. Not really. And he, himself, wasn’t a Sith.

They were both lost in the in-between.

It was perhaps this realization, as much as anything, that prompted Maul forward. 

Dropping to one knee beside Kenobi, Maul reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan,” he murmured, shifting his hand to the center of his back and feeling the broken, shuddering breaths of a man trying to hold himself together.

“I—” Obi-Wan gasped, tears dripping through his fingers, “I can’t—”

“I know,” Maul said quietly, giving the other man a moment before gently pulling him into a more upright position. “Come here.”

He managed to get them both onto the bed, pulling Kenobi against him and letting him bury his face into Maul’s chest. Kenobi clutched at Maul like a lifeline, and Maul let his fingers trace up Obi-Wan’s spine to rub at the base of his neck in what he hoped was a comforting way, and under the darkness of night Obi-Wan sobbed against him.

This was the second night he shared Kenobi’s bed.

With his arms firmly wrapped around Kenobi, Maul wondered about the light and the dark and the grey, and he did his best to hold together someone who was shaking apart.


	18. Building Shields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Maul get to work together at something.

“I can feel Luke,” Maul told Obi-Wan one day out of the blue.

Obi-Wan glanced up from his book to see Maul drumming his fingers on the counter and looking irritated.

“Sorry?” 

“I can _feel Luke_ ,” Maul repeated. “At his home. All the way from here.”

Letting the book fall shut around his finger, Obi-Wan sighed. “Ah.”

That wasn’t good.

“Your shields have been slipping,” Maul assessed bluntly. “It’s been getting worse.”

“Yes, I’ve been having some trouble,” Obi-Wan admitted, pushing his free hand back through his hair. 

His shields were usually the weakest when he was particularly tired, or after he’d felt a twinge down his and Anakin’s old bond. Recently Qui-Gon had been foisting more lessons onto him about joining the Force after death, and Obi-Wan was feeling mentally worn out. He wasn't surprised things were slipping through the cracks. 

“They were always strongest when I had time to meditate and center,” he told Maul. “Which hasn’t been happening.”

“Don’t use mediation, it won’t work,” Maul said, and Obi-Wan shrugged.

“I’m afraid I don’t know a better way.”

Maul’s hand stopped drumming, flattening onto the counter. “If the Empire finds out you’re here, that he’s here, they’ll come. You’ll be killed, as will Luke. Unless Vader takes him, which is even worse. Trust me.”

“I hear you,” Obi-Wan agreed. That would essentially be the worst-case scenario. “What do you suggest?”

Looking at him intensely, Maul said, “Use the knowledge of what could happen to Luke, how it makes you feel, to fortify your shields.”

“I don’t know how," Obi-Wan said honestly. "I only ever learned to shield in the Jedi way. Through meditation, through peace.”

Maul practically growled at that answer. “Shields don’t come from a place of peace. They come from one of necessity. How do you think I managed to build mine?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Maul pressed on.

“Fear. Desperation. We have these feelings for a reason, they’re meant to help us survive. Accept and use them, don’t ignore them.”

It was a far cry from the Jedi teachings, but Obi-Wan thought he might have a point.

“Think about it,” Maul pressed him, “about Vader coming here, about what he could do. Think about the Emperor getting Luke.”

He didn’t want to, but Obi-Wan let his mind flit over those possibilities and he felt sick. The fear, the desperation—they were there, living just under the surface.

“ _Use_ that, Obi-Wan,” Maul said. “I can show you how. It’s a similar process to meditation, but harsher.”

He would need to think about it before he agreed to anything, but it _would_ be useful to shield better. Maul clearly knew what he was talking about; he had some of the strongest shields Obi-Wan had ever encountered.

“I’ve noticed it gets worse,” Obi-Wan said, slightly to avoid answering, “after the times when I can feel Vader. He unbalances me.”

“That’s another thing,” Maul said, and this time the growl was real. “That _should not_ be happening.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “I can’t help it.” It’s not like he _wanted_ to know what terrible things Vader was doing. The images and feelings just came of their own accord.

“I think you didn’t fully sever the bond,” Maul told him, and Obi-Wan stared at him blankly for a moment.

“What?” he managed to ask, confusion coloring his voice. “No, I definitely broke it. I could feel it, when it ripped apart.”

“You were in a rush, and you were hurting,” Maul said, crossing his arms and not backing down. “Mistakes happen.”

“But,” Obi-Wan spluttered, “that’s not possible! I couldn’t feel him afterward, the connection was gone!”

“You felt around the place where the bond used to be, and didn’t find it,” Maul suggested, and Obi-Wan nodded. “Did you ever go in and thoroughly look through it for any remaining strands?”

Obi-Wan thought about it, running a hand down his beard. “Well—no, I didn’t poke around at it too much. It was… painful, and I thought it best to let dead things lie undisturbed.”

Maul quirked a brow. “There’s a chance that you damaged the bond instead of destroying it. If anything remains, even the smallest thread, you and Vader are still connected. He may not even know. You’ll have to go in and check. It’s worth looking into.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan said. “If I’m tugging on any loose strings and my shields slip, he could know exactly where I am or who I’m with.”

“Yes, he could,” Maul agreed, “which is why you need to start working on your shields.”

The stakes were too high for Obi-Wan to object. He would have to look into that old bond sooner or later, but he dreaded that inevitable day. For now, he could focus on shielding.

Tossing his book to the side-table, Obi-Wan gestured to the couch beside him. “Care to join?”

Maul stalked across the room and took the place beside Obi-Wan, pulling his legs up under him to mirror Obi-Wan’s position.

“Lead the way,” Obi-Wan offered, closing his eyes and straightening his back.

He felt a satisfied nudge from Maul in the Force, which was all he got before they started in.


	19. Bad days (and good)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days are harder than others. Particularly birthdays.

Obi-Wan didn’t mention his birthday when it came around, and tried not to think about it too much through the day. What did it mean really, besides just ticking off one more mark on the wall to remind himself he’d survived another year.

One more year since his best friend had turned into a monster and destroyed everything he held dear. One more year since the Order was destroyed and the galaxy tumbled further into darkness led by the corrupt Empire. One more year of pushing forward through the vast haze of nothing and pretending like he knew where he was going.

He did his best not to think of any of that, but it was inevitable that things would fall apart.

Maul seemed to know something was amiss but he didn’t ask, watching Obi-Wan warily throughout the day. Obi-Wan tried to pretend everything was fine, because everything _was fine_ , but he knew Maul was extremely perceptive and had gotten to know him fairly well by this point.

There were ups and downs, for both of them. Some days were just better than others, and that was how things went. When Maul got in one of his moods, Obi-Wan knew to leave him be. Maul didn’t want to be _alone,_ per say, but he also wouldn’t be in the mood for conversation. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he himself came across on bad days, but Maul always seemed to quickly figure it out and would tread more carefully around him.

Lately Obi-Wan felt himself reaching out to Maul more often on an emotional level; he craved friendship with another person—the intimacy, the conversation, all of it. He certainly hadn’t expected Maul to reach back, but he had, and they’d become something new.

Good and bad days alike, the world kept turning and they did as well.

They’d somehow gone from former enemies to about as close to friends as they could get. It wasn’t forced, the slow change of dynamic between them, but what started as a hesitant truce was much more than that now.

Maul engaged with him; he would start conversations (sometimes) and say things that Obi-Wan knew were just to make him laugh. He liked sitting around wherever Obi-Wan was just to be in close proximity. When they worked on Obi-Wan’s shields, they _connected_ in the Force, fit together in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t experienced with anyone in a long time.

He felt lucky to have Maul with him, particularly on this day; celebrating one more year of a life that probably should have stopped long ago but somehow was still rolling forward.

Everything went fine until Maul headed into the kitchen and started fiddling around, pulling out pans and beginning to cook. He rarely did so, and Obi-Wan was confused as to why today, of all days, Maul would decide to start.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, looking over and trying to ignore what the scene immediately made him think of.

“Cooking,” Maul told him, flicking an appraising eye his way. “You seem… tired.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, knowing that Maul was attempting to do something helpful but was unwittingly reminding him of something else entirely.

Anakin used to cook for him, on his birthday. It was their yearly tradition, even after Anakin wasn’t a padawan anymore. Every year, until—

He felt the blood rush out of his face and he stood quickly, wanting to get away, to get _out_. When had the living room become so confining?

“I need to…” he tried, backing away and feeling his words lock up in his throat.

Maul’s gaze took on a note of definite concern. “Kenobi, what—?”

But Obi-Wan didn’t hear him finish as he was already out the door, stumbling out and practically jogging to get as far as he could.

All parts of the desert looked the same at night, its waves spreading out endlessly with a reflective blue sheen. Obi-Wan let his feet take him forward, not questioning where he was going, not even realizing where until he reached the edge of the canyon and stopped to catch his breath.

This was the exact spot he’d come the year before; he’d wandered here drunkenly and sat on the edge of the canyon, staring down into the deep blue-black and wondering what the fall would feel like. There had to be something secure in seeing the end coming and knowing it would be final.

He wouldn’t have jumped—he owed Luke far too much for that—but it still had taken a harsh speech from Qui-Gon before he’d tossed the bottle down and wandered back home.  

He wasn’t drunk this year, Qui-Gon was nowhere to be seen, and things were different. He wouldn’t be alone, this time, if he turned around and went back. He had one more person on his exceedingly short list, someone who’d slipped in and found a place in his life even despite everything between them.

Someone who didn’t deserve for him to run off without a word of explanation.

Obi-Wan sat and rested his head on his arms.

It was stupid, that seeing Maul doing something as normal as _cooking dinner_ had set him off. It still surprised him how much it hurt, thinking of the little things he’d shared with Anakin and how those were gone forever.

It also stung that he would always have this one day each year in which it seemed the entire universe was mocking him, telling him to celebrate _himself_ , the biggest failure in the galaxy. If he could skip his birthday from now until the end of time, he would.

The sand shifted behind him and he felt Maul standing silently, having apparently tracked him to the canyon.

Obi-Wan gestured miserably to the ground beside him and Maul joined him, swinging his legs over the edge and canting his head to peer at Obi-Wan through the darkness. His eyes always glinted gold, even in the black of night.

“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” Obi-Wan told him. “It wasn’t you. I was thinking about Anakin quite a bit today, and it finally got to me.”

Maul waited a few moments before responding lightly, “I thought perhaps the sight of me, wasting my talents in the kitchen, was simply too much for you.”

Obi-Wan felt some of the old sorrow being wiped away at that tone, the weight on his chest lightening somewhat. “It _was_ quite a spectacle. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

He looked over at Maul and longed to inch closer, to press up against his side just and feel his steady warmth. The small touches were getting easier these days, but he never knew when it would be too much or Maul would flinch away. Obi-Wan never wanted to be the cause of _that_ , so he remained sitting where he was.

Maul shifted slightly and let their knees bump, digging his palms into the sand on either side of him.

“What caused it?” he finally asked, voice soft but still cutting through the silence of the night. “Why today?”

There was no point in avoiding the conversation, even if he desperately wanted to. “Anakin used to cook for me on this day every year. My birthday.”

He forced the words out and hated the way his voice shook a bit at the end. Maul didn’t say anything, but Obi-Wan could feel his eyes on the side of his face.

“I thought if I ignored today then maybe I would make it through. But then…” he sighed, “you were there, in the kitchen, and it caught me off guard.”

He shook his head at himself, feeling rather ridiculous.

“It’s stupid,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“It’s not,” Maul told him, and the solidarity was enough to make Obi-Wan relax sideways, head coming to rest on Maul’s shoulder.

Neither of them moved for a moment, but then Maul turned his face very slightly, tipping his horns away and letting his cheek press against Obi-Wan’s hair.

They sat in the darkness, both content to remain in the blue silence of the desert.

“Well,” Maul finally said, voice rumbling under Obi-Wan’s ear, “I promise to never try and cook for you again.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the chuckle that ensued, something warm curling in his chest in the spot that Maul was steadily marking out for himself.

“Oh, thank heavens,” he joked. “It appears my mental stability depends on it.”

Maul made a sound that could have been a hum, or perhaps a low laugh.

“Happy birthday, Kenobi,” Maul told him, and for the first time in years Obi-Wan rather liked the sound of it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I promise there will be some fluff soon!)


	20. Third Time's the Charm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Ch.19: Bad days (and good)

Maul hesitated outside of Kenobi’s room, pausing to shift his weight between feet uncertainly. It was very late but the light was on in Kenobi’s room, dimly streaming out from under the door and indicating that Kenobi was still awake.

Kenobi was having probably the worst birthday in history—not that Maul knew much about what birthdays entailed or why they were so important, but he had a pretty good idea that this was not the way it was supposed to go.

It seemed there was no part of Kenobi’s life that Skywalker couldn’t reach, nothing he couldn’t ruin simply by existing. Maul mentally marked another entry on the list of reasons why he hated Vader.

He realized that he was procrastinating and took a breath, raising his hand to the closed door only to pause again.

Kenobi had told him he could use the bed anytime, but somehow it was incredibly daunting to just go in and ask. But, Maul knew Obi-Wan needed someone around him right now. Some interpersonal cues were lost on him, but he didn’t have to be a genius to figure that much out.

While they were sitting at the canyon, Kenobi had inadvertently reached for him, Force presence bumping against Maul’s. Kenobi had wanted to… touch him? have him near? Maul wasn’t sure, but the notion made him feel distinctly odd.

The truth was, he didn’t mind having Kenobi close to him. Most contact with other people wasn’t pleasant; often he felt the urge to pull away or avoid it entirely, but this was different. They’d only shared the bed twice, both times because one of them was actively spiraling, but it hadn’t seemed awkward or confining.

He didn’t know why it should feel any different this time, but it did. This would involve actively asking to join Kenobi. In his room.

In his bed.

Maul lowered his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _What are you so afraid of?_ he asked himself scornfully, but the answer was already there at the tip of his tongue before he could ignore it.

Rejection.

He was definitively afraid that Kenobi would reject his company, which was absurd after Obi-Wan had told him so many times that he enjoyed having him around.

It was still the hardest thing he’d done since the crash.  

Berating himself for being such a coward, Maul mustered up the courage to knock softly on the door, rapping twice before he could change his mind again.

Kenobi’s surprised voice sounded through the door. “Come in?”

Maul pushed it open and stepped inside, finding Kenobi reclining against the headboard and reading with the sheets pulled up over most of him. In the yellow light, Kenobi’s hair burned exquisitely auburn, which Maul caught himself staring at.

“I wanted to, ah…” Maul started, trailing off when he wasn’t actually sure how to start this particular conversation.

 _Get it together,_ he told himself.

“Are you alright?” Maul ended up asking, not quite what he was there for but a good enough question to bridge the silence between them.

“Yes, I think so,” Obi-Wan replied, letting the book fall onto the covers between his thighs.

Maul was grateful he had the sheets pulled up, because Kenobi wasn’t wearing a shirt and the coppery hair lining his chest and forearms was far more distracting than it ought to be.

“I am sorry, about earlier,” he added, which Maul shrugged off.

He already knew Kenobi was embarrassed about before, which he had no reason to be; it wasn’t _his_ fault that Vader was a traitorous bastard.

Kenobi’s ability to care about people even after they’d hurt him so terribly was one of his most defining traits, and hardly something he’d be able to escape from or needed to apologize for.

“Is there something wrong?” Kenobi asked after a moment when Maul hadn’t said anything.

“No,” Maul told him. “I wanted to see if you’d like any company.”

Kenobi looked entirely surprised, and Maul backed off, hoping he hadn’t crossed some invisible boundary. 

“If not, I can—”

“No!” Obi-Wan said, sitting up quickly. “Please, stay. I’d love the company.”

Maul let the door close behind him and crossed the room, feeling the knot of tension in his chest loosening.

Kenobi shifted over and moved one of the pillows he was sitting against to the other side of the bed.

“You’re always welcome to be here,” Kenobi said, and while he didn’t exactly smile, he _did_ look distinctly happy about Maul choosing to join him.

Maul sat on the edge of the mattress and swung his legs up, lying on his side to face Obi-Wan and carefully keeping his limbs to himself.

“I didn’t want to be intrusive,” Maul told him, watching as Kenobi rested the book on his side table and turned to face him.

“Not possible. I invited you,” he said firmly, a warm undercurrent to his words that made the rest of Maul’s hesitation bleed away.

“Right. After I crashed here and you got stuck with me,” Maul joked blandly.

Kenobi did smile this time. “Well, sometimes gifts are delivered in unexpected ways.”

He turned off the light, and Maul could see the outline of him even in the dark. Maul felt that odd tug again in the Force coming from Kenobi, as though he longed to be closer but also didn’t want to say it out loud.

Moving slowly so that Obi-Wan could see exactly what he was doing, Maul extended an arm and let it settle over the sheet into the dip between Kenobi’s ribs and hip.

Kenobi sighed, something pleased and just the slightest bit relieved.

“Thank you,” he whispered, shifting closer.

 

If Maul woke up in the middle of the night to find that Obi-Wan had closed the rest of the distance between them and was positively _cuddling_ him, it was really no one’s business but their own.


	21. Realizations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul comes to terms with something, and decides it's time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached a turning point.

Six months in, sharing the bed had become more common than not. After the night when Maul had voluntarily walked in and asked, things changed between them. He didn't go back every night, but Maul noticed that Kenobi always left a place for him just in case. They never talked about it; sleeping side by side just became the norm.

Some nights were too hot, but Maul distinctly noticed the difference between the morbidly dry heat of Tatooine and the friendly warmth of a body beside his own. There had only been one or two incidences of accidental horn-bruisings in the night, which were resolved as they learned to navigate sharing close quarters. 

Waking up one morning curled around Kenobi, Maul didn’t get up immediately.

He was on his side, an arm flung over the sleeping man beside him. Kenobi lay on his back, head tilted slightly toward Maul and face relaxed in the depth of sleep. Pale early morning light filled the room, softening edges and setting a calm hush over them.

Maul took a moment to just look at Kenobi, studying him since they were so close together. There were physical things about him that Maul liked, features that appealed to him once he gave himself the chance to really notice:

The streaks of white lining his temples, blending in with the coppery hair and beginning to show his years; his straight nose and the curve of his jaw; the lines of his throat, which disappeared into the loose neck of his shirt, and—

_Oh._

Something heavy settled in the bottom of his stomach and Maul pulled away, lightly removing himself and standing to look down at the bed where Kenobi still slept.

He _felt_ something for Obi-Wan.

Something he hadn’t experienced before and therefore could not fully name. Something that had been building, slowly, over conversations and stolen glances.

Something that could never be reciprocated.

Maul turned and left the room. He needed time to think.

He tried to analyze the situation, and from any angle he could only come up with one conclusion.

“I need to go,” he told Kenobi that afternoon, clasping his hands together behind his back. He didn’t imagine the subtle pinching of Kenobi’s eyebrows and the way his mouth opened slightly before closing once more.

“Oh,” Kenobi finally managed to say, folding his arms and trying to come off as impassive which turned quickly to self-protective. He seemed to struggle for a while, surveying Maul with a scrutinizing (and somewhat hurt) gaze. Maul found himself looking away from those piercing blue eyes.

“I’ve been here too long,” Maul explained with a grimace. “I fixed my legs, I repaid you for your help. There’s no reason for me to be here any longer.”

Kenobi just looked at him. “I see.”

Maul nearly growled in frustration—Kenobi was making this very difficult. “I need to stop Sidious. I have to try.”

“You fought him before,” Kenobi pointed out flatly. “Look what happened.”

“I need to do _something_ ,” Maul said, flexing his hands and itching to get out from under that gaze.

“Help me train Luke,” Kenobi said, taking half a step forward. “He’s the Chosen One. He’s going to need all the help he can get. You would still be getting back at Sidious, and you wouldn’t be throwing your life away.”

Maul shook his head. “I have to leave this place.”

“Why?” Kenobi asked, something pleading barely coloring his tone.

Maul's lip curled, and he just managed to keep the growl out of his response. “Would you keep me here, even if I wanted to leave?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Kenobi said, voice softening to a near whisper. “I would like it if you wanted to stay. With me.”

 _I do,_ Maul mentally answered, instead setting his shoulders and taking a breath. “I can’t.”

“Alright,” Kenobi said simply, looking away.

Something about that answer, his acceptance of Maul’s departure, hit Maul hard. Kenobi wasn’t a manipulator, he wasn’t a pusher; he wanted Maul to stay, he’d said as much honestly, and left the rest in Maul’s hands.

He knew in that moment that if he chose to walk out the door, Obi-Wan wouldn't stop him. 

It was enough to bring out the truth. “I… feel something. For you,” Maul admitted, forcing the words through his teeth.

Kenobi’s gaze flicked back to him, eyebrows creeping up his forehead. “Feel what?” he asked.

Maul simply looked at him, letting his shields drop a notch and allowing Kenobi a glimpse without having to explain. He didn’t know if he had the words to explain it anyway.

“Oh,” Kenobi whispered in surprise, expression going soft.

Maul turned away, couldn’t bear to see that face turn pitying or pinched in disgust. He cleared his throat. “That’s why I need to leave.”

He didn’t have anything, besides himself and the few items Kenobi had gifted him during his stay. It would be better, he thought, to depart quickly and not drag things out.

Maul moved toward the door, pausing at a “Wait” from behind him.

He turned just as the other man reached him, Kenobi’s hands coming up to cup the sides of his face as he brought their lips together.

The kiss was light and unpracticed, but extremely certain. It was a type of contact that Maul had never experienced, the foreign reality of having someone else’s face that close to his own. Kenobi’s thumb ran across his jaw for a moment before he pulled away, keeping them close together.

“I feel the same,” Kenobi said, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

Maul didn’t know how to respond. This was not what he’d expected, not even an option he’d considered in his calculations.

“I—need to go for a walk,” he said, dropping his pack and heading out the door abruptly. He needed to clear his head and wouldn’t be able to do it with Kenobi looking at him like _that_.

In the midst of the sand and sun, Maul walked and walked and tried to make heads or tails of what had just happened.

He felt confused, part of him wanting to run as far away as possible. Why had he said anything, why hadn’t he just left?

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself, as his brain filled in: _So is Kenobi._

Kenobi, who looked at him like no one ever had, who gave him an option Maul had never faced before, who _consistently_ turned logic on its head.

It was uncertain, new, and seemed like its very own type of dangerous, but Maul had never been one to shy from danger. As much as he wanted to run away he also wanted to turn and run back.

 _Trust is giving and taking_ , he reminded himself. _And sharing._

This _thing_ between them—maybe it was something he could share with Obi-Wan. That thought in itself was both frightening and intriguing.

He’d never felt anything like this before, never wanted anything like this with someone else, but perhaps… perhaps he could try it, just this once.

 

* * * 

*

After several hours, long after the suns went down, he returned to the house and cleaned up, sliding into the bed beside Kenobi and laying on his side so he could face the other man.

Kenobi rolled onto his side as well so that they were nose to nose, mere inches of space separating them.

“Stay?” Kenobi asked, and Maul nodded.

He wasn’t sure which of them moved first but they met in the middle, Kenobi’s hand coming up to cup his jaw as Maul’s own hand dragged into the hair at the base of Kenobi’s skull.

The unfamiliar prickle of Kenobi’s beard rubbed his face, which was in no way less pleasant than the warmth of his lips.

They didn’t do any more than kiss, but it was difficult to sleep that night. When he finally did drift off, it was with Obi-Wan's head pillowed on his chest, and their fingers twined together in a way that spoke of promises, trust, and maybe something a little more. 


	22. Internal conflicts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Maul are both still figuring things out. This is new territory, after all.

Maul meant it, when he’d agreed to stay, and that was when he’d found a job. His legs were fixed up well enough that he had no problems getting around and doing what he wanted to do. He and Obi-Wan agreed it had been long enough since he’d escaped that no one would be looking for him out here. Obi-Wan had returned to the crash site several times to make sure the wreckage remained covered, but it was still safely buried. 

Maul began to go into town and look for mechanical work, coming up with a considerable amount of repair jobs considering that no one knew him. Obi-Wan was suspicious that he’d ‘suggested’ via the Force that he was the right man for the job, but Maul insisted it was simply because he was willing to work for cheap.

He hadn’t run into any problems despite Obi-Wan worrying otherwise, and it was nice to have the extra income. Repair jobs were never scarce on Tatooine, and Maul was good. Before long he’d cultivated a small reputation for himself, even though he tried to lay low.

Obi-Wan was immensely glad that Maul had decided to stay. It hadn't hit him until Maul was ready to leave, how much he'd miss him. 

That first kiss (and then second, and third) solidified in Obi-Wan’s brain exactly how he felt about Maul.

He’d thought about him before in ways that his own brain refused to fully put together. He liked connecting with Maul, wanted to get closer to him, and enjoyed having him around, but he’d _entirely_ refused to think about it in any sort of romantic terms.

Wanting friendship was normal. As a Jedi, it shouldn’t have been high on his list of priorities, but he couldn’t help it after being mostly alone since the fall.

Wanting _more_ than friendship was entirely un-Jedi-like. He’d never let himself think about anything of the sort through all his years in the Order. There were more pressing things to worry about, like training, raising Anakin, and then fighting the war; romance was nowhere the picture and completely out of the question.

There hadn’t been anyone he’d liked romantically anyway, not since he’d been very young.

That’s why the romantic attraction he felt for Maul had caught him off-guard. He’d mostly ignored the inklings of what certain feelings could mean—sharing beds did tend to lend a closeness he wasn’t accustomed to—but after Maul had lowered his shields just an inch, Obi-Wan understood.

It was like peering straight into his own mix of emotions.

There was fondness and warmth, and an incredible amount of uncertainty, all blended together over something deeper that spoke of desire.  

Obi-Wan was never one to sit and pick through his emotions too closely, as they were usually fairly clear, but this was something he didn’t quite know how to describe. He wanted…

He wanted.

That was about as clear as he could get.

The half of him that was still strictly Jedi-training-and-upbringing told him it was unbecoming to look at another person in this light, to shut these feelings down and save them both a lot of pain and heartache down the road.

The other half, the part that had been struggling along ever since Anakin and wasn't really a Jedi, just purely Obi-Wan, told him that this was ok.

Things weren’t the same anymore. There was no Order that he’d pledged to—it had fallen. There was no padawan he needed to look out for—he’d been lost. There was no reason not to run with this.

The conflict was quickly won by one half of himself.

The only potential reason to not go forward was Luke, and by this point Obi-Wan could clearly see that Maul was about as ready to protect Luke from any potential harm as Obi-Wan was. Luke was a non-reason, essentially. 

That Non-Reason was a perceptive kid, though, and Luke could tell something was different when he saw Obi-Wan next.

“You seem happy, Obi,” Luke said after they’d managed a short meditation together, looking at him with big curious eyes.

“I am, young one,” he replied, knowing that for the first time in a while it was completely true.

“Good,” Luke said seriously. “I can feel it when you’re sad. You hurt a lot.”

 _How are children so observant?_ Obi-Wan wondered, brushing some of Luke’s unruly hair out of his face.

“I like Maul,” Luke told him suddenly. “He should med’tate with us.”

“I like him too,” Obi-Wan smiled, and didn’t think it was a bad idea.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan wasn’t prepared for Maul to want to talk about things between them, or at least be the first one to bring up the topic, but if Obi-Wan was uncertain of how things should go then Maul was doubly so.

“I’ve—never done this,” Maul told him over dinner, having barely touched his food (for once) and looking as close to nervous as Obi-Wan had ever seen. “This, what we’re doing.” He gestured between them bluntly, and Obi-Wan understood.

“I haven’t either,” Obi-Wan said, wishing Maul would relax a bit. He looked high-strung, as though the conversation alone was putting him on edge. “The Jedi didn’t allow attachment.”

Maul gave up on his food and crossed his arms, shoulders tense. “Kenobi, with your excessive amount of charm and wit I hardly believe you.”

Obi-Wan tried not to smile at the compliment. “I’m being serious. There was someone once, when I was a barely a teenager, but that didn’t go anywhere. We kissed once, nothing more. I’m hardly an expert on relationships.”

“Is that what this is?” Maul inquired, face masked into a neutral expression despite the flash of worry in his eyes that Obi-Wan barely caught.

He shrugged lightly. “It can be whatever we want it to be.” Maul looked wary, and Obi-Wan continued, “I just know that I like having you around, and I enjoy who you are, and I’d like to get closer to you.” He paused. “If that’s also what you want.”

“I do,” Maul agreed, and some of the tension disappeared. “I just... don’t know how to be whoever you need me to be, as a part of this.”

Obi-Wan reached across and laid his hand palm up on the table, an invitation but not a demand. “I don’t need you to be anything other than yourself. If you’re ever unsure about something, ask me. The rest will come in time, if it’s meant to happen.”

Maul reached across and slid his hand over Obi-Wan’s, linking them together palm to palm.

It wasn’t hard to finish dinner like that, holding hands, even if it meant using the wrong hand to eat.

After the dishes were done, Obi-Wan found Maul staring at him across the kitchen.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Maul said, and Obi-Wan thought his heart might have stuttered, just a bit.

“I’d like that too,” he replied, so Maul did.


	23. Assurances from a friendly ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon tells Obi-Wan to follow in his footsteps and break the rules.

“This is certainly an interesting twist,” Qui-Gon said matter-of-factly, and Obi-Wan felt himself blushing from head to toe.

It wasn’t like he could keep the change in his and Maul’s relationship a secret from a Force ghost, particularly one who knew him so well and was so _endlessly_ nosy.

“I didn’t plan for it to happen,” Obi-Wan replied, tucking his hands into his pockets and staring resolutely at the sand instead of his old master. The situation was really quite uncomfortable, not that Qui-Gon seemed to care.

“No one does,” Qui-Gon told him. “I wondered if you both would figure it out. You’ve been dancing around this for a while.”

“I kept feeling like I shouldn’t,” Obi-Wan said, digging one boot into the sand. “I’ve never…” he sighed. “Being a Jedi and everything, it felt like something I should avoid.”

“At some point in the past, that may have been true,” Qui-Gon stated, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe. “However, some of the old rules no longer apply. If they ever did in the first place.”

Obi-Wan did look up at this, not sure what Qui-Gon meant. His old master’s eyes were twinkling in a mischievous way.

“Do you remember Tahl?” Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan nodded, still not sure where this was going.

He waited, but Qui-Gon didn’t say anything more, just raising his eyebrows and looking at Obi-Wan expectantly.

“Do you mean…” Obi-Wan said, pieces clicking into place. “You and Tahl?” he exclaimed, feeling the blush worsen. “I thought you were just good friends!”

“That we were,” Qui-Gon said fondly. “And a bit more.”

“Good heavens,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. Some things he just never needed to know, or think about.

“Point _being_ ,” Qui-Gon continued, tone turning slightly more serious, “that our relationship didn’t make us lesser Jedi. As long as you don’t let another person consume you or push you to be someone you aren’t, having feelings like this are perfectly normal. It can be healthy to share a romantic relationship with another person.”

Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon had never exactly been a traditional Jedi, but his words were still calming; they settled the last bit of uncertainty clinging to Obi-Wan’s mind.

“I guess I worried that you’d be upset with me,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You never upset me, dear one,” Qui-Gon told him. “If this relationship is something you want, I fully support you in following your heart. But I will be speaking to Maul at some point,” he said, drawing up to his full height and looking rather intimidating.

“I’m sure that will be an interesting conversation,” Obi-Wan muttered, hoping Maul wouldn’t be too put-off by the fact that Qui-Gon was still hanging around. “Try not to scare him away, would you?”

“That would be difficult,” Qui-Gon said wryly, “considering the way he feels about you. Neither of you are particularly subtle, you know.”

Obi-Wan wanted to disappear into the sand, thinking how convenient it must be for Qui-Gon to be able to pop in and out of view whenever he liked. “Wonderful.”

Qui-Gon grinned. “Being part of the Force does make reading people much easier, I must say.”

“I thought I was improving my shields,” Obi-Wan groaned.

“You are, and you’re doing a fine job,” Qui-Gon told him. “That reminds me—whenever you decide to look at your old bond with Anakin, don’t do it alone.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asked in concern. “What’s going to happen?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I’m not sure. I can’t see the future. But you have the tendency to do things on your own, Obi-Wan, and in this case I would recommend fighting that particular instinct,” he said. “Accept support where you can. Maul is helping you with your shields, let him help you with this as well.”

“I’ll consider it,” Obi-Wan allowed, thinking that Maul probably wouldn’t want to be around anyway when he finally got around to checking the old bond.

“Good. Oh, and Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon brushed up against him in the Force, wrapping around him much like a hug, and Obi-Wan tried to ignore the prickle behind his eyes as Qui-Gon told him assuredly: “I’m so very proud of you.”


	24. Limitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul figures out one of Obi-Wan's hang ups, as well as one of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the _most_ plot-heavy chapter, but we'll get some of that pretty soon

It was hard for Maul, sometimes, touching another person and being touched in return. Kenobi was casual with his affection; it came more easily to him, both in words and physically. Maul struggled a bit, not used to speaking his thoughts openly and quite unsure about where to put his hands in respect to another person when it didn’t come to violence. This wasn’t violent, though, something far from it, and he had to learn to use his hands in a whole new way.

Kenobi didn’t seem to mind his struggle, and usually just smiled as he let Maul figure it out for himself. That was one of the best things about Kenobi—he never pushed. He was never in a rush, and the way Obi-Wan would look at him when Maul did something _right_ was enough to keep him trying.

Sometimes Kenobi would join him on his morning walk, winding their fingers together and pressing his thumb into the heart of Maul’s palm. Touches like these—holding hands, the slight brush of Kenobi’s fingers over his shoulder when they sat on the couch, bumping noses when either of them leaned in for a kiss—became familiar, and made Maul want more.

But, he wasn’t in a rush either. Maul had always been patient, particularly in delicate or strategic situations, and this thing with Kenobi seemed a bit of both. Delicate, yet strong. Strategic, yet completely unplanned. No one had ever gotten into his head and twisted his definitions around themselves the way Obi-Wan did.

Maul had never wanted someone else in his head before, but Kenobi was different in all regards.

Showing Obi-Wan how to build up his shields was an activity that brought them closer than Maul had ever expected. He’d gotten under Kenobi’s outer shields and lowered his own in return in order to show Obi-Wan the right pathways to follow and stones to dredge up.

He hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to _fit_ there, under his shields, presence mingling with his own in a way that was far too complementary for either of them not to notice.

It was nothing like Sidious being inside his head, nothing even close. That bond was control and pain and fear, wrapping around him and coiling through his mind like a snake. It was forced and ugly, but strong.

He hadn’t let himself close to any other Force users in the same way, keeping his walls up as high as they could go and _knowing_ it would be awful to let someone in. Even with Savage, he’d always kept his distance mentally.

But Kenobi…

His presence ran alongside Maul’s own like water; he filled in the gaps and empty spaces, steadily streaming around and brushing by him. It oddly felt very similar to holding hands, but through the Force.

They hadn’t opened deeper shields (that would be much more of a mess than either one of them would be able to handle) but Maul didn’t mind. It felt nice to connect with someone in the Force, someone who wanted to be around and with him.

Kenobi was learning, and his shields were getting steadily stronger. Maul wasn’t trying to turn him dark or change his Force presence somehow, but as a fact Kenobi was not entirely light-side. Every ounce of him was _good_ , but he had pockets of darkness made up of fears and hurts that Maul taught him to draw upon.

The dark-side wasn’t all about hate and power, despite what the Jedi always taught. There were many aspects that Maul always found incredibly useful. Instincts, emotions, _passion_ ; these could all be key factors in motivating oneself.

He’d half expected Kenobi to be disgusted by him, the first time they really allowed each other under their outer shields. Maul knew he ran far darker than anyone Kenobi had probably worked with before. But Kenobi didn’t seem to mind; he took it in stride and, if anything, seemed intrigued.

Maul wasn’t able to feel Luke at all from a distance anymore, which was a good sign of the progress they’d made. Kenobi’s shields were better than ever, and Maul had to give himself some of the credit. More than that, working together toward a common goal felt nice; it was one more thing they could share. 

Kenobi's increased shielding seemed to be helping somewhat with the Vader problem as well, but not completely. Each time one of those attacks happened, Maul found himself unreasonably angry. Vader should _not_ be in Kenobi’s head. He didn’t deserve a place there anymore, and the thought of him still being attached to Kenobi in any regard was disgusting.

After the bond-attacks Obi-Wan often didn’t mention anything, but Maul could see it slowly wearing him down. Kenobi carried it with him like a physical weight, staggering underneath and trying to keep his head up.

“You need to look into that bond,” Maul kept telling Kenobi, after his shields were significantly better reinforced.

“Not yet,” Kenobi would always reply, and Maul was starting to get an idea of his limitations.

Some things were too painful to voluntarily dredge up. Maul knew this from experience.

His nightmares were something he would never think or talk about if he could help it. Thankfully they'd gotten much better ever since sleeping with Obi-Wan became a regular event.

They still occurred, though, and bad one caught him that night, long after they’d drifted off.

_He was back in that prison of pain after Sidious captured him, lying on the floor as lightning surged through his body. His legs were gone, he couldn’t move, everything was blue and white and agony. He tried to scream through the gag but was unable, convinced he was going to drown in his own blood before the electricity could ever kill him._

Maul forced himself awake and practically fell out of the bed, gasping for air and feeling the phantom burn crawling up his limbs. He could tell instantly by the horrified look on Kenobi’s face that he’d dropped his shields enough to let some of the dream slip through.

“Maul,” Kenobi said weakly, “was that—?”

“Don’t,” Maul cut him off, feeling his hearts still bounding in his chest even once the dream was long gone. He didn’t want to talk about it, wishing his brain would stop reminding him. “Please, don’t.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a few seconds before nodding and holding out a hand to help tug Maul back into the bed. They’d both lived through enough nightmares at this point to know that some things didn’t need to be talked about.

Everyone had limitations, and Maul could hardly judge Kenobi’s when his own were so evident.

Still, the dream shook him pretty badly, and Kenobi used it as an excuse to kiss him anywhere he could reach—his nose, his cheek, the curve of his shoulder, his knuckles.

As Obi-Wan’s lips moved along his collar bone, Maul forgot for a moment what the dream had been about anyway. Surely nothing important.

The contact was too much and not enough at the same time.

Maul ended up pulling Obi-Wan on top of him so they could kiss properly, hands running up under Obi-Wan’s shirt to anchor at the small of his back and spread around the curve of his ribs.

This was much more physical than anything they’d yet done, and Maul felt himself shudder as Obi-Wan’s fingertips dragged around his horns and sent a chill down his spine.

“Focus on the present, not the past,” Obi-Wan told him between kisses, and Maul thought it was ironically pertinent advice for both of them. He would have said it right back, except Kenobi’s tongue was doing something interesting and Maul wanted him to keep going.

Besides, it was good advice.

The present was a rather nice thing to focus on.

* * *

 


	25. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's fifth birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some POV switching between Obi-Wan and Maul, just a heads up!

When Luke turned five, Beru invited Obi-Wan and Maul over to come celebrate.

Obi-Wan had been thinking about what to get Luke for a while, and it just so happened that Maul was the perfect person to help him with what he had in mind.

“We can just go for the afternoon,” Obi-Wan said, when Maul looked reluctant.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t go,” he said, rubbing his pinky absentmindedly against his thigh.

“What? Why not?” Obi-Wan asked with a frown. He’d wondered if Maul would try to back out, but there was no way he was going to let that happen. “You made Luke’s gift, you need to be there!”

“The gift was your idea,” Maul said. “And I don’t know if Beru and Owen would want me there.”

“Nonsense, it won’t kill you to spend some time with them. Besides, Luke will be _so_ disappointed if you don’t show up.”

Obi-Wan thought he might have laid on the guilt a little too thickly, but he could see the moment Maul relented.

“Alright,” Maul said, catching the travel cloak Obi-Wan threw his way.

“Wonderful! I told Beru we’d be there by lunch.”

 

Maul had purchased a broken down landspeeder from one of his clients and he'd repaired it to full functionality, making travel time much quicker for them. Obi-Wan fully supported the purchase; the faster one could travel, the less chance of being attacked by Sand People. It also made trips into town or to the Lars' homestead much more manageable. 

He always let Maul drive, one because it was technically Maul's vehicle, two because Maul actually enjoyed driving, and three because it was essentially the same as flying (which Obi-Wan still hated).

When they reached the Lars', they both hopped out of the landspeeder and Obi-Wan led the way inside. He’d been here many times before for Luke's lessons and knew the layout well. Maul eyed the house suspiciously as they entered, hanging back a step or two behind Obi-Wan. 

Beru was in the kitchen, fixing something that smelled delicious, and she turned as they entered.

“Obi-Wan! So glad you could come,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “And Maul, nice to see you! How are you?” she asked, kissing a thoroughly perplexed Maul on the cheek as well.

“We’re doing fine,” Obi-Wan said, noticing that Maul was surveying the room closely and mentally taking stock of any exits. Some habits were difficult to break. “It smells absolutely wonderful, what are you making?”

“The cake is just finishing up!” she said with a smile. “Luke tried to help me with the first one and it turned out horribly, so I made a new one while he was out playing. Don’t tell him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Obi-Wan said seriously.

Luke chose that moment to run into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy birthday!” Luke yelled, reaching up until Obi-Wan took the hint and lifted him off the ground.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help chuckling at Luke’s persistent difficulty in understanding the concept behind a birthday. One of these years he'd get it right. At least he hadn't made anything for Obi-Wan this year, so he was heading in a good direction.

“I believe it’s _your_ birthday today, Luke,” he said, resting him on one hip and letting Luke hold onto his collar. “Or am I thinking of someone else?”

“S’what I meant!” Luke said. “Hey Maul! I’m five!” He held up a hand to show all five fingers, looking impressed with himself.

“Indeed you are,” Maul said, something amused flickering in his eyes. “Congratulations.”

“How old are you, Obi?” Luke asked, and Obi-Wan shook his head sadly.

“Nearly one-hundred years,” he said. “Soon I’ll be the oldest man on Tatooine.”

“No you’re not!” Luke laughed, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck.

Obi-Wan grinned. “I’m forty-three. Terribly old.”

“What about you, Maul?” Luke asked, and Maul looked put-off for a moment, brow creased as it did when he was thinking.

“Forty. I think,” he said, and Obi-Wan caught something uncertain on the edge of Maul’s tone that he made a mental note to ask about later.

Beru pulled the cake out and set it on the table, wiping her hands on her apron. Obi-Wan set down Luke on one of the chairs as Owen came into the room, casting an eye over Obi-Wan and Maul before reaching over.

“Obi-Wan, hello.”

Shaking his hand, Obi-Wan gestured to Maul who was standing close beside him. “How are you, Owen? This is my friend Maul.”

“So I’ve heard,” Owen said, glancing at Maul again but not offering a hand. He turned to clap Luke on either shoulder. “Well, how’s the birthday boy?”

They sang Happy Birthday (except Maul, who watched in confusion) and ate some cake while Luke opened his presents.

Obi-Wan’s inspiration for the gift had been Anakin’s love of podracing. He would never get an actual podracer for Luke (both because he couldn’t afford it and the sport was _far_ too dangerous) but he requested Maul’s help in building a tiny replica.

The result was a miniature version that actually flew. The controller was hand-held, and Maul had demonstrated for Obi-Wan exactly how to race the tiny pod. It had been above and beyond what Obi-Wan had expected, and he knew Luke was going to love it.

When Luke pulled the paper wrapping off, his eyes grew comically wide.

“A Podracer!” he exclaimed, running a finger along the tiny vehicle. “Cool! It flies?”

“It does,” Obi-Wan said, pointing to the controller. “Maul built it for you.”

“Awesome!” Luke said, hopping up to give both of them hugs. He scooped up the gift and grabbed one of Maul’s hands, tugging insistently for him to follow. “We gotta try it!” he said, and Maul let himself be dragged outside behind Luke.

“Yes, go play,” Owen told Luke. “Obi-Wan, I’ve been wanting a word.”

They followed a distance behind Luke and Maul, stopping at the door.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling as though something was off.

“Look, I don’t know how the—the Jedi nonsense works,” Owen said, crossing his arms, “but I have to ask, have you been warding our house somehow?”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, quirking a brow.

“I mean we’ve been having strangely good luck, if you can call it that, since you brought Luke to us. No attacks by Sand People, no raids by any of Jabba’s crew.” He looked quite unhappy about it.

“Well, I should think not being attacked or raided is a good thing,” Obi-Wan told him lightly, and Owen shook his head seriously.

“It’s suspicious. It’s marking us as different. If this is your influence, I need you to stop. No more of this Jedi mischief. I told you before, your job is to teach Luke how to safely use the Force, not try and corrupt him like you did his father.”

Obi-Wan felt like Owen had punched him in the stomach and quickly masked his face as to not let the hurt show too much. He knew Owen didn’t blame him for Anakin’s death, exactly, but held him responsible for turning Anakin into a Jedi in the first place.

“I have no intentions of ‘corrupting’ Luke,” Obi-Wan said blandly. “I’m doing as you asked. I’m not trying to turn him into a Jedi or influence him in that direction. Still,” he held up a hand as Owen made a move to interrupt, “I will not sit back and allow your family be harmed in any way. I _am_ warding you, but not just from Sand People or thugs. There are much more serious people out there who can’t know about Luke.”

“Who?” Owen asked.

Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t be completely honest here, and Owen could be a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out lies. He needed to be careful, considering Owen’s mood today.

“The same people who killed Anakin,” Obi-Wan told him. “If they find out about Luke, they’ll come for him.”

“Why would they care?” Owen asked, frowning.

“It was all very personal to these people, what happened,” Obi-Wan said. “By being the child of a Jedi, Luke is in as much danger as I would be, if anyone found out about him.” Owen and Beru didn't know about Vader, and Obi-Wan planned to keep it that way.

Owen relented somewhat, despite looking rather unhappy. “It still looks suspicious. We should have encountered some trouble by now. Even the Jawas are being too friendly.” He looked over to where Maul was helping Luke steer his remote-controlled Podracer and made a face. “I thought your _friend_ would be long gone. Beru said he isn’t a Jedi. What is he?”

“A Force user,” Obi-Wan said, remaining as vague as possible. “He was never a part of the Order. I’m giving him a place to stay.”

“Is that all you’re giving him?” Owen asked shrewdly, and Obi-Wan didn’t know how to respond.

* * *

Maul watched as Luke tried out the Podracer, insisting that Maul time him as he did laps around a tiny course he’d marked into the sand. Maul squatted beside him, giving him tips on the best angles at which to turn corners.

“It’s awesome!” Luke told Maul again, hitting him with a wave of excited energy in the Force and bouncing off Maul’s shields.

“I wanted to get you a full-sized one,” Maul told him, dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper, “but Obi-Wan said no.”

“He’s grouchy,” Luke said, nodding seriously. “But we love ‘im.”

 _That we do,_ Maul thought.

He looked back to the house and saw Kenobi conversing with Owen, who was imposing on Kenobi’s personal space in a way Maul didn’t like.

“Keep practicing, I’ll be back,” he told Luke, drawing up from his crouch and walking over to the two men. Maul clasped his hands behind his back, willing himself to stay calm.

When he got close enough, Owen turned to face him, looking him up and down. “Beru told me you were fixing your legs. They look fine.”

“Yes, I managed to repair them,” Maul said shortly, coming to stand beside Obi-Wan so that their shoulders brushed.

“You’ll be leaving soon, then?” Owen pushed, and Maul's eyes narrowed somewhat.

“Actually, I’ve decided to stay here, with Obi-Wan," he responded steadily.

“Couldn’t bother to find your own place?” Owen asked, and Maul didn't like the implications in his tone.

Maul stared at him evenly, not saying anything.

“Perhaps we should go,” Obi-Wan said, as the tension grew.

“Yes, that would be best,” Owen said, calling over Luke and scooping him up.

“Goodbye, Luke,” Obi-Wan said, smiling at him. It was a mark of how well Maul knew Obi-Wan that he could tell the smile was entirely fake. “Happy birthday.”

“Bye,” Luke said waving at both of them. “Come back ‘n visit!”

“What do we say?” Owen asked him, and Luke added, “Thanks for the present!”

Beru caught them as they got in the landspeeder, passing half of a cake to Obi-Wan and leaning in to whisper, “Don’t mind Owen, he’s been in a mood all week. We appreciate everything you’re doing.” She squeezed his hand once and waved to Maul, returning to Owen and Luke.

As they rode off in the landspeeder, Maul looked over to see Obi-Wan absentmindedly stroking his beard.

“What happened with Owen?” Maul asked, and Obi-Wan turned to face him with a sigh.

“He’s upset that I’m keeping Sand People and Jabba’s ruffians away from them. Apparently my ‘Jedi mischief' is not appreciated.” Obi-Wan shook his head.

“You’ve been keeping Tusken Raiders away?” Maul asked curiously.

“Yes, I do it for my house as well,” Obi-Wan told him. “They’re really quite a nuisance. Why do you think we haven’t had any problems?”

“I… didn’t think about it,” Maul said honestly. It really hadn’t crossed his mind. He assumed the Sand People just had certain areas they didn’t travel, but it made sense that Obi-Wan was keeping them away. “You’re not going to stop protecting the Lars, are you?”

“I hardly see how I can,” Obi-Wan said in frustration. “I tried to explain to Owen the importance of keeping them safe, but he doesn’t know the full story and he was in a less than friendly mood today.”

“I noticed. He doesn’t like me,” Maul stated.

“Don’t take it personally, he doesn’t like me either, really,” Obi-Wan said. “Your status as a Force-user has set you in a negative light in his eyes.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Maul suggested, and Obi-Wan sighed again.

“He might see our situation as… unfavorable.”

“Living together?” Maul asked, waiting for the responding nod. “Why would he care?”

Obi-Wan shrugged unhappily. “Some people don’t like that sort of thing.”

“Well,” Maul sniffed, “people are generally idiots, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Obi-Wan actually laughed at that, passing a hand over his face and leaning back into the seat. He seemed to relax, letting whatever Owen had said roll off him.

“I’m not particularly concerned over what Owen thinks of us as a couple,” Obi-Wan told him. “I just hope he doesn’t stay upset over my attempts to help.” He paused, before adding, “At least Luke loved his gift. Thank you for that.”

“Like I said, it was your idea,” Maul told him. “I don’t have the faintest idea what 'birthday gifts' are supposed to be.”

“Speaking of which,” Obi-Wan said, voice taking on a distinctly careful tone, “earlier you said you thought you were forty?”

Maul nodded. “I should be, as of this year.”

“You sounded somewhat unsure,” Obi-Wan suggested, those scrutinizing eyes running over Maul’s face.

Maul shrugged, letting his head fall back against the seat. “I don’t know the exact date. Sidious didn’t do birthdays.” The whole thing still seemed rather foolish to Maul, but he knew it was something most people celebrated. What did it matter, really, what day a person was born on?

“Oh, I see,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing at his beard with a slight frown. After a moment, he asked, “Well, if you could pick a day, any day, to celebrate, what day would you choose?”

Maul tipped his head over to shoot Obi-Wan a bemused look at the absurdity of the question. “Kenobi—”

“Humor me,” Obi-Wan said, cutting him off. “You don’t have to answer now, just—just think about it.”

Maul thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but he did think about it. Obi-Wan had asked him to, after all, and it was a harmless request. So he thought about it, and eventually he came up with an answer.

 

* * *

 

Nearly three weeks later, Obi-Wan was not expecting it when Maul told him out of the blue which day he would pick to celebrate in place of a birthday.

It was the anniversary of the day he’d landed on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back the wide smile that spread across his face.

“That’s it, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: rating may change for future chapters


	26. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan decides to spar with Maul. Maul wins (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I warned at the end of last chapter, the rating has now officially changed!  
> Nothing too graphic, but you know. Better safe than sorry. Smut will ensue, so if that's not your thing feel free to skip this chapter!

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why he decided to challenge Maul to a fight, but they both needed the practice sparring with another person and Obi-Wan decided that it had been too long since he’d gotten real exercise beyond chasing Luke whenever he tried to escape his lessons.

Maul went outside daily to run through the forms, which he did using a wooden stick he’d picked up, and he was gaining back some of his old dexterity. His balance had improved tremendously, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know about the cybernetics he probably wouldn’t have been able to guess that Maul’s legs were anything other than his own flesh and blood.

When he went outside to find Maul battling the empty air, Obi-Wan casually took up Maul’s backup stick and tossed it between his hands.

“Need a partner?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Maul replied with a bit of sass, quirking an eyebrow his way but otherwise not bothering to break form. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, stepping across from him. “Would you _like_ a partner?” he clarified, getting a better feel of the stick’s weight. It wasn’t a lightsaber, but it would make do.

Maul stopped and surveyed him for a moment before acquiescing. “Yes, fine, Kenobi. But don’t expect much. These are a far cry from using actual weapons.”

“That’s the point,” Obi-Wan told him. “With sticks we can hardly injure each other.”

“Apparently you’ve never been hit hard enough with one,” Maul told him dryly, and Obi-Wan grinned.

They both dropped into ready positions across from each other, and before Obi-Wan had a chance to move Maul was already coming at him.

It didn’t feel the same as it did during their first fight, so many years ago. They weren’t desperate this time, and while the fight was carefully calculated on both sides, neither was aiming to harm. They did get in a few smacks, but Obi-Wan was still incredibly quick and Maul had an unprecedented way of seeing moves before they occurred.

Overall they were very equally matched, and with the sun beating down it wasn’t long before they were both panting, Obi-Wan feeling his hair plastering to his forehead with sweat. Fighting like this was incredibly fun even without a lightsaber; the rush of adrenaline made him feel alive, buzzing through him from fingers to toes.

He could tell Maul was getting tired as he shifted into a more defensive stance to conserve energy. Maul pulled his lips back in a snarl when Obi-Wan got in a particularly good shot.

“Give in?” Obi-Wan grinned, and Maul’s nose crinkled in mock disgust.

“You wish, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan used the provocation as a distraction to pull a side-swipe, putting all his energy into the swing. Maul managed to block in time but his stick snapped in half upon impact, leaving him weaponless.

“I win,” Obi-Wan said triumphantly, which quickly became false as Maul _launched_ himself across the sand and barreled into him, causing him to drop the stick as he was knocked backwards.

They grappled for a moment, but Maul had the upper hand and quickly pinned Obi-Wan to the ground on his back, sitting firmly on top of him with hands around either of Obi-Wan’s wrists.

Obi-Wan knew Maul was a bit lighter than himself, but that didn’t make a difference. Maul was thin and wiry but _force_ he was strong. He knew exactly how to keep someone down, using his weight in just the right places, and Obi-Wan realized that he was completely trapped.

Their position didn’t escape him, and Obi-Wan tried to blame the sun for the heat that rushed into his face. Maul was looking down at him in a peculiar way, flexing his hands around Obi-Wan’s wrists where they were imprisoned on either side of his shoulders.

He moved in suddenly, dipping his head, and the last thing Obi-Wan expected was for Maul to bite him lightly on the neck, dragging his teeth up the skin all the way to the base of his jaw. The feeling went straight between Obi-Wan’s legs, and he couldn’t help the small hitch in his breath.

Maul growled, “I win,” into Obi-Wan’s ear, and that didn’t help things either.

Obi-Wan tilted his hips up to meet Maul’s but Maul was already letting go and standing up, walking back to the house with a bit of swagger in his stride.

“That’s so unfair!” Obi-Wan called after him, but he didn’t get a response, and he had the feeling Maul _intended_ it to be.

Pushing himself up to follow Maul inside, Obi-Wan dusted the sand off his robes and began to think of how he could even the scales.

 

* * *

 

By the time Obi-Wan got out of the ‘fresher, he’d formulated part of a revenge plan. He didn’t know how well it would work, but there was no way that Maul was going to get away with being such a tease, and Obi-Wan knew Maul was never one to back down from a challenge.

Despite what Owen had suggested on Luke’s birthday, Obi-Wan hadn’t been “giving” Maul anything more than kisses and the occasional snuggle. (If the cuddling wasn’t actually all that occasional, and the kissing was often make-out sessions where one or both of them ended up looking rather wrecked afterward, that wasn’t any of Owen’s business anyway.)

But the comment had made Obi-Wan think about where he wanted things to go between himself and Maul, and it was getting harder to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to touch Maul, to trace his markings and kiss him breathless, but he also wanted more than that. After a long period of thinking, Obi-Wan had come to the conclusion that if Maul wanted to take the next step in their physical relationship, he would definitely be a supportive and active participant.

Obi-Wan hadn’t been sure how far Maul wanted the physical aspect of their relationship to go, but after the display earlier when sparring he’d gotten a pretty good idea. Maul would do that sort of thing, occasionally: leave hints of what he wanted and wait to see if Obi-Wan would follow up. It was one of Maul’s way of checking to make sure they were on the same page. Obi-Wan supposed they could just talk about it, but this way was far more fun.

They would talk about it, eventually, but for now Obi-Wan decided it was time to initiate his plan.

Maul had showered first was sprawled across the bed on his stomach. His red and black always stood out remarkably from the tans and browns of Tatooine, and Obi-Wan let his eyes wander appreciatively for a moment before turning away. Maul could be devastatingly attractive, even if he didn't know it. 

Digging around in a drawer, Obi-Wan casually commented, “I clearly need to spar more often. My shoulders are already sore.”

Maul grunted from the bed and turned his head to the side so he could look over at Obi-Wan with one eye. “That, and you lost,” he said smugly.

Obi-Wan chuckled lightly. “You’re telling me your arms aren’t tired after that?”

Maul huffed, rolling his shoulders. “Perhaps. I was practicing for quite some time before you showed up.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows sympathetically. “I can rub your shoulders, if you want.”

Maul looked suspicious, and Obi-Wan turned back to looking for a night-shirt.

“Or not. I thought it might feel nice, but you’re probably fine.”

He tried not to feel triumphant when Maul spoke up behind him. “I wouldn’t object, if you’re offering.”

“Oh wonderful,” Obi-Wan said, abandoning the search for a shirt and climbing onto the bed beside Maul. “Stay right there.” He swung a leg over Maul and settled onto the back of his thighs, running his hands along the stripes on Maul’s back and following them up to his shoulders.

“If it’s too much, tell me to stop and I’ll get off," Obi-Wan told him, knowing that sometimes Maul had trouble dealing with a lot of contact all at once. Recently, though, that had been getting much better.

“It’s not,” Maul assured him, taking a deep breath and letting it back out slowly. "But thank you."

Obi-Wan hummed, skimming his fingers across the red and black skin covering Maul’s arms and shoulders and watching as he slowly, slowly relaxed.

Starting to apply slightly more pressure, Obi-Wan ran his thumbs along the edge of Maul’s shoulder blades, the ridges of his spine, the curve of his muscles. He liked the look of his pale fingers against Maul's darker red and black skin, admiring the contrast as his hands worked.

It was calming, allowing himself and being allowed to touch Maul like this. He could have easily gotten lost in the feeling, if he weren’t there for an ulterior motive.

“You know,” Obi-Wan said after a while had gone by and Maul was completely relaxed underneath him, “that was quite unfair the way you left me earlier. Very unsportsmanlike.”

Maul huffed, turning his face very slightly to the side. “You’re just upset because I beat you.”

It had been a while since Obi-Wan had needed to play up his charm, but this seemed like a good enough reason to pull out some old tricks.

“Oh, I would never be upset to have you on top of me like that,” he said, pitching his voice low and emphasizing his words with his fingers. “It didn’t feel like losing at all.”

He rubbed up the back of Maul’s neck, tracing the back of his skull and around his jaw to his ears, shifting forward and steadily letting more of his weight settle down onto Maul. He could feel the increased rhythm of the two hearts beating below him and knew he was causing the intended effect. 

“I thought you might at least kiss me,” he mused, digging the heels of his palms between Maul’s shoulders and dragging them down to the small of his back where they anchored around his waist. Obi-Wan thought about the teeth dragging along his throat and hoped he could get Maul to do that again. “But I did like your version.”

“Did you? I didn’t notice,” Maul replied, voice somewhat tight despite how relaxed he appeared.

“What a shame,” Obi-Wan said, letting the sarcasm drip heavily from his voice and bending down to whisper directly into Maul’s ear. “I could always show you how it made me feel, if you’d like.”

Maul growled in the back of his throat, twisting around and knocking Obi-Wan back to the bed to straddle him, face hovering inches over Obi-Wan’s own.

This wasn’t _exactly_ how Obi-Wan had intended things to go, but it was honestly just as good. Maul looked fairly riled up, gold eyes flashing.

“You are absolutely infuriating,” he assessed, letting Obi-Wan’s hands return to his waist and thumb along the edge of his pants toward the clear indication that Maul was _definitely_ interested in what was happening between them.

“If you say so, my dear,” Obi-Wan smiled, heart leaping as Maul bent down as he had earlier, this time letting their lips come together. It wasn’t light, the way Maul claimed his mouth, their tongues meeting in the middle, like they did with everything.

One of Maul’s hands came up and tipped Obi-Wan’s head to the side, allowing his mouth to move down to the tendon standing out of Obi-Wan’s neck. He mouthed there, the warm mixture of tongue and teeth scraping along Obi-Wan’s pulse point and stopping just over his Adam’s apple.

“Oh, that’s good,” Obi-Wan sighed, and he thought he could feel Maul smile against him.

Mirroring their position from earlier, he tilted his hips up to meet Maul’s hand— _when did that get there_?—and he practically groaned at the contact.

Maul’s fingers were in the ties of his leggings, but then he stopped, looking up and meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Is this—alright?” he asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, letting himself send out a wave of sincerity in the Force. “Quite alright,” he replied, not managing to stop the blush that spread from his nose to his ears when Maul tugged his leggings down around his thighs and ran a (somewhat shaky) hand along his length.

He knew this was a first for both of them. Beyond kissing, Obi-Wan had never been intimate with another person, and Maul hadn’t so much as kissed anyone else before him, so this had to be new.

If he wasn’t so turned on, the situation would have been much more daunting. As it was, Maul looked extremely nervous, but Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t want to. Besides, some of Maul’s nervousness was offset by a distinctly predatory gleam in his eyes that made Obi-Wan’s stomach twist into knots.

Maul let his hands explore, slowly picking up a rhythm of sorts, and it didn’t take long before Obi-Wan was _painfully_ hard. He would have liked to last longer for the sake of his pride, but Maul had talented hands and Obi-Wan really wasn't complaining. 

He made a somewhat choked noise when Maul squeezed around the head of his shaft, and Maul’s hand stilled as he looked up in concern.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, mentally pleading for him not to stop.

“Are you ok?” Maul halfway asked, sounding unsure, and Obi-Wan groaned in exasperation.

“I’m about to _cum,_ ” he said, letting his head fall back to the mattress and gripping one of Maul’s metal knees as tightly as he could. “ _Force_ , please, just—”

“Oh,” Maul blinked, and he continued, driving Obi-Wan over the edge after a few strokes.

When Obi-Wan's senses finally returned, he could see Maul staring at the mess on his hands with a curious expression.

“That was fast, Obi-Wan,” Maul told him smugly, looking highly pleased. He leaned down to run his lips over Obi-Wan’s cheek and nose, wiping one hand down the center of his chest.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Obi-Wan joked, letting his hands drift to Maul’s thighs and travel upward, coming to rest on either side of the hardness tenting his leggings. “I am awfully tired, now. Perhaps I’ll go to sleep.”

“Don’t you dare,” Maul growled. “ _You_ got us into this mess, you get us out of it.”

“I hardly think this is my fault,” Obi-Wan objected, even as he cupped Maul through the material of his pants, pressing in with his palm as he undid the laces. “You were the one who pinned me down so lasciviously.”

“You were the one who started the massage and whispering all sorts of—ah,” he cut off as Obi-Wan got a hand around him.

Obi-Wan had wondered if Maul’s patterns extended all the way down (which they did), and he let his hand trace diamonds similar to the ones on Maul’s nose.

It was unfamiliar, touching someone else like this, and Obi-Wan did his best to figure out what Maul liked or didn’t. Maul wasn’t very verbal during the process, but his breathing would change or his eyes would dip closed at certain movements, and Obi-Wan got a pretty good idea.

Maul barely lasted longer than Obi-Wan had, and it seemed more by sheer willpower than anything else. Obi-Wan felt incredibly accomplished when Maul's head tipped back, face caught somewhere in between surprise and pure bliss as he came. It was really quite cute, seeing that expression on someone who always guarded himself so carefully. 

Things could have been awkward, afterward, but Obi-Wan took one of Maul’s hands in his own and drew it to his face, kissing the center of his palm.

“That was nice,” he smiled, and Maul relaxed beside him, slipping an arm and a leg over Obi-Wan and pulling them together.

“It was,” Maul agreed.

“If I’d known sparring with you would have such a favorable outcome, I would have suggested it long ago,” Obi-Wan joked, getting a huff of air against his shoulder in response.

“Don’t count on it, in the future,” Maul said sleepily.

“But what if I win?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You won’t,” Maul told him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before falling asleep.

 _I think I already did,_ Obi-Wan thought to himself as he also drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates have slowed down a bit, work is killing me!


End file.
